Hogwarts: A New Beginning to An Old Story
by tahwekilelohcin
Summary: Post HBP Hermione returns to Hogwarts to teach after the defeat of Voldemort. We begin in the past, while the war is still raging. The main plot will take place at Hogwarts, with those pesky flashbacks thrown in for explination.
1. Clichés Don't Exist In A World of War

_Hermione, _

_What can I say that hasn't already been said? I wish things could be different, and not just concerning you and me. I wish everything could be different. But they're not... and I'm beginning to wonder if things will ever change. What if Harry fails? What if the world is destined to be held under Voldemort's rule? I don't know that I can continue on (even with you by my side) watching my friends and family die. It's just too hard. I know you understand this perfectly well. _

_We've both lost so much, love. I've lost all my brothers and you lost one of your best friends. We cling so desperately to that which we cannot hold onto forever. Maybe in another life we could've been happy. Maybe in another life we could've had peace. But this life is all we have, and it's threatened on a daily basis of being cut short. _

_It doesn't seem that clichés exist anymore. "Live every day to the fullest" "Today is the first day of the rest of your life" "Fight to the bitter end" ...It's "now or never," Hermione. I know long ago I would've laughed as I wrote that, but not today. Perhaps never again..._

Fred stopped short. He let himself get carried away by the past:

I didn't know who I was without my brother, my best friend. We'd never spent more than a few hours apart at a time. To say we were close would've been an understatement. Once he was gone I knew a part of me was gone too. I didn't do the noble thing though, I stayed holed up in my office, left the store closed. I buried myself in my loss and could think of nothing else. I had lost so much.

About six days after we'd all received _the _news, she showed up in the store. To this day I still don't know how she managed to get in. But then again, she always had been the most clever witch I'd ever known. Where that used to annoy the hell out of me, it now gave me comfort. Throughout all the madness, something had managed to stay the same. **She **had managed to stay the same.

At first I thought she'd come to pluck me out from my office; to tell me there was a war going on and that I simply couldn't stay hidden away the rest of my days. I had expected that much from her. But I didn't get it.

When she found me I was slouched against the side of my desk, sitting on the floor with head on my knees, sobbing... even though I no longer had any tears left. I heard her shoes clicking on the floor. Somehow I knew it was her. I didn't bother to look her way when she entered the room.

She crossed the room to where I was and gracefully dropped herself to the floor, sitting herself beside me. She wrapped her arms around me, in an awkward sideways hug and rested her head on the back my shoulder. It wasn't long before I felt her tears soaking through my shirt. It was in that very moment that I realized I wasn't alone in my grief. It had been selfish of me to think I was in the first place.

"H-Her-Hermione?" I asked, my voice cracking from the lack of use, as I shifted to hold her in my arms, my eyes still squeezed shut.

"Yeah?" she asked quietly, now resting her head on my chest, wrapping her arms more tightly around my abdomen.

"I-I'm..." I stuttered, not being able to come up with the right words to say.

She pulled me closer, if possible, "Yeah, Fred... Me too."

I let out a breath that I hadn't been aware I was holding. It felt better to have someone to be with than being alone.

I opened my eyes to look down at her, only to find her staring right up into mine. Her eyes were as bloodshot as mine must've been, though that wasn't the only thing different about her appearance.

"Your hair..." was all I could manage to say.

She let out an uneven breath, "I needed to feel like I had control over something," she stated decidedly, "so I cut it all off."

Her once long, unruly... yet still altogether beautiful hair was now cut to just above her chin, and tight ringlets framed her face.

I let out the first laugh, albeit a small one, I'd had in weeks, "You look like Shirley Temple."

She gave a half-laugh before questioning, "How d'you know about Shirley Temple? ...Oh, your dad, I suppose?"

I nodded as I reached up to tuck a stray ringlet behind her left ear, letting my fingers trail down her neck and resting my hand at her collarbone.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, caught up in each other's arms, clinging onto the only bits of life we had managed to find in each other.

It was strange, really. We'd never been close before. Hell, I barely even knew her, despite the number of summers she had spent at the Burrow. I'd always been too caught up in scheming with George and she'd always seemed... well, she'd seemed like an old stick-in-the-mud. Later she would tell me she'd always thought me as an "irresponsible, sorry excuse for a wizard." Though, when she confessed this, all I could do was chuckle. After all, it had been mostly true. But despite any of our prior thoughts, or lack-there-of... it seemed that she was all I had left in this world; this surprising girl was there for me when I needed someone most. Somehow she'd known what no one else had: even though I had secluded myself, I hadn't really wanted to be left alone. She knew this because she felt the very same way.

We had been camping out in the apartment above the shop for several days, me in my room and she in the living room. She didn't even question me about George's room. She knew it was too soon for me to be able to deal with that. But at least it was bearable to be in the apartment once again, made only bearable by her presence.

She entered my room without asking, though it didn't seem odd because we really weren't much for talking anyway. Maybe it was because we didn't really know each other that well, maybe it was because there wasn't really anything to say, or maybe it was because our relationship wasn't really the type that always required verbal communication. She shut the door quietly behind herself and walked across the room barefoot to the edge of my bed. I felt her sit down across from my lying form, though I feigned sleep. I should've known this wouldn't fool her.

"Fred," she began in a soft voice, "I know you're awake."

I rolled over to face her as she brought her legs up onto the bed to sit cross-legged. I opened my eyes and sleepily greeted her, "G'morning. What's up?"

She reached over and tousled my hair as she replied, "G'morning yourself, sleepy head. I know you've only woken up, but we need to talk."

I groaned as I turned to bury my face in my pillow. Those had to be a guy's least favorite four words.

Surprisingly, this actually deterred her for a minute and she fell silent. After awhile curiosity got the better of me and I lifted my head from the pillow and propped myself up on my elbows. She was still sitting on the other side of my bed, biting her lip, in a very un-Hermione fashion.

That's when I began to worry, "Hey, what is it?" I asked quickly.

Her eyes darted from mine as she replied, "Oh, it's nothing to worry about, really." She paused as she swallowed; only, I knew this was just her biding her time. "I... I mean..." she sighed and then tried again, "Fred, nobody knew this but... Ron and I were engaged. To be married." she finished lamely.

My heart sank for her. She and Ron had been in love. And now he was gone.

She continued, "It happened only days before..." she trailed off. I knew what she meant: before Ron was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. "And, well, after it happened Harry was so devastated. You know, losing his first best friend... I just couldn't tell him about Ron and me. It would've killed him. I couldn't tell anyone. ...But it's..." she faltered, tears spilling down her cheeks, "it's just so hard without him. I-I never considered how hard it would be." She met my gaze, her lips trembling, "I'm all alone... and, I'm just so... so afraid if I let myself get attached to anyone else I'll only lose them too." She closed her eyes, which allowed several more unshed tears fall. It was quite apparent she hadn't intended on telling me everything she had.

I sat up and moved over to her side, enveloping her in my arms. She brought her arms around me and buried her head in my chest; though, it seemed she was done crying for the moment being. I laid my head on top of hers and closed my eyes while I slowly rocked her back and forth. It was odd how she seemed so small in my arms, so much like a very small child. The moment didn't last long however. Hermione pulled back slightly, to speak, though her arms never left me.

She cleared her throat slightly and began, "Telling you all that... wasn't really my intention for waking you this morning. Though, I'm glad I told someone. I don't know how long I would've been able to keep it all to myself."

I brought my fingers to her cheek, slowly wiping away a leftover tear and replied softly, "You can always tell me anything."

She smiled slightly, "Thanks Fred, that really means a lot to me." She took a deep breath and seemingly found her resolve and began, "What happened to your family was horrible. And I can't say that I'm not scared about meeting the same end, but we can't stay here forever. We have to go back. We have to help Harry in any way we can."

I knew what she said was true. We were just wasting time. There would be plenty of time to mourn once Voldemort had met his demise. I replied, "You're right. We have to go back."

* * *

A/N: Okay, so I had fully sworn off fanfic. It only lasted about twelve days though.

Anyway, this is my newest idea. The story isn't really going to focus around Hermione and Fred though, this chapter is kind of a memory of a memory. The main part of the story is going to revolve around Hermione, who is a professor at the newly reopened Hogwarts.A few, perhaps unexpected, other of her former classmates are teaching as well. We'll follow her through memories of her days there, the war, those she loved, and those she lost.

I really need to get away from relying on flashbacks and memories to tell my stories, but... hopefully it'll work out in the end. I've definitely got an idea where this is all supposed to go, though there will be some more background-y stuff before I can actually get started.


	2. Returning Together, Leaving Alone

**A/N**: I don't own it. I don't own any of it. But I do own a really awesome pair of backless Adidas shoes.

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And we did go back. We went back together. The unspoken bond between the two of us, seemingly growing stronger every day.

We, along with many members of the Order, were staying at Grimmauld Place, even though Harry still refused to enter through its doors. He didn't have a problem with other people staying there. After all, it was the perfect place for operations.

Fred was at my side when I woke in the early morning of our first night's stay. His fiery red hair was hanging in his wide brown eyes which were steadily focused on me. Hair and eyes that were so much like Ron's. It was strange, really, it was almost like Ron had sent me Fred. He was by no means anything like Ron, but he just seemed to be everything I needed. And he was slowly becoming everything I longed for.

I know it was stupid. Here we all were, fighting for our lives and the lives of ...everyone. And I was worried about the developing feelings I had for my ...well, my dead fiancé's brother. Surely my life had become a muggle soap opera; that'd explain a lot, actually.

Fred broke my train of thought when he began to speak, "Are you just gonna stare at me all morning?"

I smiled a bit and replied, "Are you just gonna sit on my bed all morning? What are you doing in here anyway?"

I saw a hint of color rise in the pale skin of his cheeks. "I couldn't sleep, so I came in here. I didn't want to be alone any longer."

_I didn't want to be alone any longer._

Was there more to that statement than there seemed?

I reached out to him and grabbed his hand. "What time is it?" I questioned.

"Nearly five," he answered bashfully, "I really hadn't meant to wake you up."

I shook my head and simply replied, "C'mere.' as I tugged him down into a laying position on the bed. I felt his body stiffen the moment I did so. I chuckled, "Fred, don't be ridiculous. I don't want to be alone either. Let's just get some sleep, eh?"

He smiled gratefully at me and wasted no time in finding a comfortable position. He still hadn't let go of my hand. So we fell asleep like that, for a few hours. Beside each other, holding each other's hand. Yet I knew we were connected in more ways than that.

I should've seen it coming, really. I'm not usually such a foolish girl. I told him that day on his bed. I **told** him I was scared of losing another person close to me.

I know that's why he avoided telling me about his mission as long as he did. He didn't want to cause me any further pain. I was grateful for this, yet I hated him for it. Maybe the hatred was just me pushing him away; pushing him away before someone could take him from me. That way it wouldn't hurt so badly. It's odd, the lies one tells themselves to get to sleep at night.

But who was I kidding? I couldn't sleep without him by my side any longer.

It had been five weeks since he first came into my room that morning. Every night after that, we'd each go to our respective rooms, only one of us would always end up in the other's. It wasn't that we didn't _want _to be alone anymore, we simply couldn't handle being by ourselves. We both knew too well how our minds would wander while alone. We were each other's distraction.

And it wasn't long before we were desperate to come up with new ways to distract each other. Yes, _that _kind of distraction. I honestly don't know what Ron would've said, had he ever found out to what depths of despair I was traveling. It wasn't that I didn't care for Fred. He just wasn't Ron. And that's all that mattered, in the beginning anyway.

It was all too easy to let my eyes drift out of focus and that hair... that brilliantly red hair became that of my Ron's. I only allowed myself to live that lie one time. I knew it would be disastrous otherwise, not to mention completely unfair to Fred. So I began looking for reasons to love him. I should've known it, too, would end in misfortune. After all, there was nothing pointing to any other kind of ending.

I loved the way the freckles on his nose got lighter when he was fibbing. I loved the way he looked when he first woke up in the morning and smiled at me from across the bed. I loved the way he could light up a room by simply entering it. I loved the piercing in the lobe of his left ear. I loved that he refused to tell me why he had gotten the piercing in the first place. I loved the way he would still tease me about looking like Shirley Temple, even though I'd long since magicked my hair into a less curly style. I loved that he insisted on wearing his old, green dragon-hide suit coat whenever he left the house. I loved that he still got a kick out of leaving prank wands around the house, for unsuspecting members of the Order to happen upon. I loved that he could, even after all we'd been through, make me laugh.

He told me halfway through breakfast that fateful day. He later told me he had wanted to wait until I'd finished eating, but the expression on his face had given him away. I asked him what was wrong. For some reason I hadn't expected the worst. I guess I must've gotten used to our daily routine. So used to it that I couldn't imagine things could possibly change. Apparently denial had become a rather large part of my daily routine.

He swallowed hard on his last bite of scrambled eggs, and for a moment I was worried he was going to choke. He took a quick swig of pumpkin juice and cleared his throat. "Listen, love, I've got something important to tell you."

My heart sank. I suddenly wished I hadn't eaten those eggs covered in ketchup. I knew this was going to be something I didn't want to hear.

"You know how it is; I can't tell you a lot of the details, for security reasons," he looked at me apologetically, "But, Harry's asked me to go with him on his next operation and I've agreed. It's time for me to do something to help avenge my family."

The only thing I could think was: What about me? But of course I didn't ask him that. I couldn't be that outwardly selfish. So I held my tongue. I did the only thing I could do, I nodded.

Apparently this wasn't quite the reaction he had expected from me and he was quick to question, "Hermione, are you all right?"

I put on my best fake smile and replied, "Of course, why wouldn't I..." my voice faltered, giving me away.

Fred was out of his chair and at my side within seconds, pulling me close to him. I wanted to struggle. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to yell and scream at him.

...I wanted him to stay with me, where he was safe.

Instead I cried. I felt weak. I felt useless. I felt... I felt like I would soon be all alone again. "Take me with you, Fred?' I pleaded in between sobs. "I could help, I know it. I... I could help..."

He shook his head as he scooped me up with his strong arms, carrying me up the stairs to my room. As we entered through the door I couldn't bear to look at him. I was a mess. I was always a mess. He set me gently on the bed and I turned away from him immediately, covering my face with my hands, letting myself sink into the folds of the blankets. He joined me on the bed, pulling me close to him. Somehow he knew being close to him was all I needed to feel better. But, if he knew this, why was he insisting on going away?

I scolded myself for thinking so childishly. I knew very well why he was going away, but it didn't make it any easier to accept. I didn't want him to go. There were a lot of things I didn't want. I didn't want Fred to remember me as some stupid blubbering girl. I took a shaky breath and asked as calmly as I could manage, "When do you leave?"

His grip tightened around my waist as he replied, "Midnight tonight."

I crumpled. No, I broke. I broke into a million pieces. I was shattered. Absolutely shattered.

Not even Fred's embrace could hold me together anymore. It was the second time within a year I wished I were dead. I know it wasn't very Gryffindor of me, but I was merely a shell of who I had been at school anyway.

"Hermione, love... I won't be gone that long, I promise. It should only be a week or so."

But I wasn't buying anything he was selling. I knew no good could come of him leaving with Harry on some secret excursion.

We stayed in my room all day. I couldn't find the willpower to make myself move and Fred stayed with me. He knew I was afraid of being alone; after all, he was afraid of being alone too. Time slipped by at a cruel rate, and in seemingly no time at all it was dark outside. Neither of us bothered to lighten the room. I was numb to the world outside my four bedroom walls. Everything I had grown to depend on was here, for now anyway. Not for long though. Nothing ever stays the same.

I cried for what must've been the fifteenth time that night when the I heard the clock in the hall chime, alerting the house it was a quarter to midnight.

He kissed my forehead and whispered, "I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this..."

I gazed into his eyes, his face illuminated only by the moonlight and whispered back, "Neither did I, but this feeling is all that I've got. ..._You're_ all that I've got."

He closed his eyes and once again brushed his lips against my forehead and replied in a hushed tone, "Forever and always, Hermione. Forever and always."

I summoned up all the courage I had and murmured, "Goodbye, Fred," between tears.

He rose from the bed, after untangling his body from mine, "I'll always love you, Hermione Granger." And with that he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

I felt like every inch of me was bruised. Hours passed, and I still counted the minutes that he wasn't with me.

* * *

**A/N**: Yeah, I borrowed and modified a couple lines from the Jack's Mannequin song "Bruised" for their conversation. It just seemed to fit. 

I know the fic is rather depressing right now... I guess I can't really promise things will get any better. I thrive on angst. I apologize. Regardless, I hope you like the story thus far.

Oh, also... Please review? Make a poor girl happy :) Maybe reviews will convince me to be nicer to the characters? ...I'd say it's worth a shot. :)

My next update will be in a week or so. Possibly sooner if I get those reviews. ;)


	3. When I Had the Chance

**A/N**: Okay, I know I said it'd be a week, but I'm going away for the weekend, so I'll get this out early. Apologies for the angst. I promise it'll get more upbeat eventually; I'm going to brainstorm on how to bring in some comic relief. :) -- Also, apologies for the double-upload.

* * *

He owled me every day for the first three weeks he was gone. Even though, as I later would find out, Harry specifically told him "No owls." But that was just Fred being himself, really. Since when did he ever listen precisely to what someone in authority told him to do? I guess Harry wasn't any exception.

I didn't keep the letters though. Somehow throwing them away made it easier to believe he would be coming back to me. It made me believe the letters wouldn't be all I would have left of him.

I should've kept the letters.

Weeks after I'd received the news, someone, though I'll never be quite sure whom, left one of the discarded letters for me under my door. I can only assume they'd nicked it out of the garbage bin, thinking it might be of some solace to me when the dastardly news finally arrived. And I was grateful to them for this. One glance at it and I recognized it as the final one I had received from him.

Since that day I've read it so many times, the words have been successfully engrained into my mind. Though I still kept the letter, folds worn smooth from my frequent reading:

_Hermione, _

_What can I say that hasn't already been said? I wish things could be different, and not just concerning you and me. I wish everything could be different. But it's not... and I'm beginning to wonder if things will ever change. What if Harry fails? What if the world is destined to be held under Voldemort's rule? I don't know that I can continue on (even with you by my side) watching my friends and family die. It's just too hard. What am I saying? I know you understand this perfectly well. _

_We've both lost so much, love. I've lost all my brothers and you lost one of your best friends. We cling so desperately to that which we cannot hold onto forever. Maybe in another life we could've been happy. Maybe in another life we could've had peace. But this life is all we have, and it's threatened on a daily basis of being cut short. _

_It doesn't seem that clichés exist anymore. "Live every day to the fullest" "today is the first day of the rest of your life" "fight to the bitter end" ...It's "now or never," Hermione. I know long ago I would've laughed as I wrote that, but not today. Perhaps never again...  
_

_What I'm trying to say is... well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through everything you went through with Ron all over again. It seems like some stories never change.  
_

_I love you more than you'll probably ever know, Hermione. You were there for me when I needed someone most. Even better yet, you instinctively knew I needed someone before even I was aware of it. Selfishly, I'm so glad you were that someone for me. But I can't bear to think of you unhappy. And I know that as long as this war rages on you will never truly be able to be happy. _That _is why I went off with Harry. I am going to help him end this. We're going to end it once and for all. And I'm doing it all for you, love.  
_

_You will be loved again. You will be happy again. _

_I can only hope I will be able to return to your side to witness it all. If not, you must continue on. For both of us... or if not me, for Ron... for George..._

_I should've married you when I had the chance, whatever small one there might've been along the line. But that's just me being selfish again. _

_Have I told you lately that I miss you? I do. Every minute of every hour. I miss your infectious laugh. I miss the way you crinkle your nose when I do something immature. I miss waking up to see your curly head resting on my chest. I miss the way you always manage to smell like vanilla and peaches. I miss the way you taste. I miss the way you examine your nails when you're pretending not to listen to me. I miss absolutely everything about you._

_This isn't goodbye, love. I could never say goodbye to you. For us, there was no beginning and I'm quite certain there will be no end. We are. We exist. We love. We take nothing for granted._

_Until the next time I hold you in my arms,_

_All my love, _

_Fred_

And that was it. A faded piece of parchment was all I had left of him.

I won't go into details of what happened to take him from me. Honestly, I don't even know that much about what transpired. It wasn't exactly as if anyone who'd been there had lived to tell the tale. Yes, that's correct, I'm talking about the final battle between Harry and Voldemort. I can't say that too many people were surprised no one came out alive. Somewhere, deep down, I knew if Harry defeated Voldemort it would be the last thing he ever did. I guess I just thought it would've taken more time for the defeat to occur. I thought I'd have more time. More time with Harry. More time with Fred. Now time is all I have, but I've no one to share it with. I am left with the very thing I've feared since Ron was taken from me. I am left alone with myself. And the worst part is, I don't even know who I am anymore.

And I thought I had felt broken before. The feelings I'd had months ago are entirely foreign to me now. Then, I had merely been distraught. Now I was... I'm not sure what I was. Perhaps no one has been able to come up with an accurate definition for this feeling.

With all this time I did the only thing I knew to do. The only thing I could ever remember doing in the past when things became to much to bear. It was the precise thing I used to do whenever I'd have an argument with Ron or Harry: I retreated to the library at Grimmauld Place, to my books. Somewhere along the line, after spending weeks in the library, burying myself in my volumes upon volumes of books, a few questions struck me: What was happening with Hogwarts? Was it still closed?

Suddenly I knew exactly what I should be doing.

A week later I caught Minerva McGonagal just as she was leaving Grimmauld Place after having a short visit with Lupin.

"Professor--"

"Ms. Granger, you very well know you may call me Minerva."

But for once in my life, I wasn't listening, "Professor, have you considered reopening Hogwarts? We've wasted so much time already. Two years have passed and children, our _future_, are continuing on, uneducated."

It wasn't as if Minerva McGonagall hadn't considered this. If it were up to her, Hogwarts would've continued on throughout the war with Voldemort.

She replied sympathetically, "Hermione, dear... it simply isn't up to me. Even after everything the world has been through, the final say still must come from the Ministry of Magic."

I huffed indignantly, "I cannot believe Umbridge reinstated that law; and while Hogwarts wasn't even open for teaching, no less!"

McGonagal replied, "Well, I'm sure she wanted to make certain we weren't able to open our doors again until the world was ready." She sighed, "You know people like her, seeing dark magic anywhere and everywhere they look, even if it's not there at all."

Just then a thought struck McGonagal, "You weren't... you aren't considering teaching, are you?"

I turned my head sharply, meeting McGonagall's gaze at once, and replied in a barely audible whisper, "There isn't anything left for me to do."

Normally, one might mistake such a statement as something along the lines of cowardice or self-bemoaning. But I was sure McGonagal knew that wasn't what I meant.

I cleared my throat, continuing in at a normal pitch, "I mean, I did everything I could for H-Harry and..." I swallowed hard, "and, everyone else. But all that's over now. I — _we _all — need to move on."

McGonagal gave me a small smile, "Dear, I understand. I really do. I'll tell you what, tomorrow you and I will go to the ministry of magic and have a little chat."

I spent that night, as I had so many before it, in the library. Somehow when I was reading a book, my life seemed to melt away, if only the tiniest bit. I was well aware I was only avoiding reality, but I was convinced I'd had a quite enough of my fair share of reality. It could wait for me while I read my books.

I left the library a little after seven in the morning and retreated upstairs to get ready for what would be my first venture out of the house since I'd received the news.

Once in my bedroom, I went to my armoire, searching for something suitable to wear. I decided my wardrobe didn't consist of nearly enough black. I rummaged through the bottom drawer until I found precisely what I was looking for: one of my old black robes from school. I pulled my wand from my pocket and whispered a quick spell that removed the Gryffindor crest from the left lapel. Yes, this would do quite nicely.

There was only one other thing to contend with: the state of my face. I slowly pulled the black hangings from the mirror in my room. To say the least, I was quite surprised at the reflection I saw gazing back at me. I hardly recognized myself, but I guess that wasn't really a new occurrence. My face had a pale and sunken look to it, and my eyes seemed to have given up on being anything but bloodshot, even though it'd been days since I'd last wept. I absently wondered how long I'd been keeping up my routine of living in the library. It certainly must've been longer than I was aware of. Though, I suppose my not being able to even touch food might've had something to do with my appearance as well. That and the fact I no longer slept for more than ten minutes at a time. Either way, this was simply not how someone should present themselves to the Ministry.

I snatched my wand up from the dresser where I had left it and muttered a few small spells to manage my appearance. I cast another glance into the mirror, deciding it was the best I could do for now. I quickly pulled my hair into a bun, securing it with an elastic.

The clock in the hall chimed out it's usual refrain, proclaiming it to be half-past eight. McGonagal would be here any moment.

I quickly slipped on my robes and headed out my bedroom door.

"What do you mean I'm "definitely most unqualified"?" I screeched. But I wasn't finished, "I was the brightest witch in my year!"

McGonagall and I hadn't even made it unto the Minister's office; we were stuck talking to his secretary.

"Ms. Granger," the secretary replied in a hushed tone, "I'll thank you to keep your voice down. Now, I'm sure you're quite aware, even if we were to allow Hogwarts to reopen, we have never, _never _in the past allowed anyone to teach who did not score in the top ten percentile of their age group in their N.E.W.T. testing."

"Oh, do you want me to take my N.E.W.T.s? I'll do it. Let's do it now, hm? Forget 'top ten percentile.' I'll ace it. I swear to you..."

McGonagall broke in sharply, "Hermione, clearly we have come at a bad time." She pointed her attention to the secretary, "I would like to schedule an appointment to meet with the Minister as soon as possible."

The secretary looked relieved at the thought of the two people in front of her desk leaving, so she immediately obliged, "Next Thursday at 9 a.m."

McGonagall nodded, turned and began heading for the door, but not before she had successfully gotten hold of my forearm. She drug me all the way to the main entrance.

Once there, she finally spoke, "It will not do to go around yelling incensed things at ministry employees. Whether we like it or not, they are in charge of the fate of our school; for now, anyway."

It was all that I could do to simply nod in understanding and follow her out the front door.

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**A/N**: I hope you're all not too unhappy I've gone and offed Fred too. Well, Fred _and_ Harry. But it was pivotal to my plot line, you know?

Thanks to my reviewers:

To my first reviewer (and coincidentally roommate) Jilly, otherwise known as **J-J7**. I am sorry, Jill that this isn't a Harry/Draco fic. Though, that dream I promised you is coming up in one of the next chapters. But really, should I just go through and have Microsoft Word switch "Hermione" to "Harry"? Hehe... That'd be kinda funny, me thinks. But I probably won't. -- Also, I apologize for killing your favorite Weasley twin; my decision was based solely the thought "Well, hey... which name do I like better?" And I just didn't see Hermione falling in love with a guy named George. ;) But that's all kind of beside the point now, isn't it? Poor Fred has left our heroine for the afterlife.

To my second reviewer: **AngelBaby07**, I checked out your profile, and I see you're a supporter of the insert Weasley twin here/Hermione pairings. And, I'm sorry I killed Fred. I kinda really feel bad about that. But it's essential to my plot line. Maybe the next fic I do will be a complete Fred/Hermione one... I think that'd be nice. Maybe I'd 86 the angst too, that'd be a nice change of pace :)

**Review?**


	4. Any Objections?

**A/N: **Time for my semi-customary disclaimer: I don't own it!

This chapter is happy little flashback as relief from the depressing stuff I've written thus far. Though, it will be pretty much inconsequential to my plotline. I just felt bad about the constant angst. Also, writing this chapter means I have to contend with the end of book 6, which wasn't really something I was looking forward to doing, so kindly excuse me if my introduction is completely lacking.

* * *

It had been eight weeks since our sixth, and final year at Hogwarts had ended. We'd been with Harry every day since our departure. We had visited the Burrow, the Dursley's, and Godrick's Hollow all within the first three weeks.

Now the three of us were staying in a rather secluded neighborhood, in Nymphadora Tonks' old cottage, since she had been staying at Grimmauld Place full-time now that she and Remus Lupin were engaged. She had told us to stay as long as we pleased, and she had been quite certain we'd be more than safe while we stayed there.

It was strange really, despite everything we had all endured in the past year some things never seemed to change. I mentioned this to Ron in passing after our first week staying there and he pointed out I was correct, in such a way only Ron could, chuckling, "Yeah, 'Mione, you're still hopelessly drawn to your books." For a moment I wondered if he really had found what he'd said humorous, but then I brushed the thought aside as I slowly closed my book and sat it on the floor beside my chair. Ron looked worried for a moment, undoubtedly wondering if I was about to yell at him for poking fun at me.

But strangely enough, yelling at Ron hadn't even crossed my mind. I rose from my chair and walked the expanse of the room to where he was standing in front the sooty fireplace. He still looked apprehensive. I smiled for a moment, rather enjoying his facial expression. After a moment or so I simply wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest. He immediately enveloped me in his arms, pulling me closer to him.

"Dance with me?" I asked.

"Wh-What?" he bewilderedly questioned.

"C'mon, 'Won-Won'," I teased, "Just one dance?"

In typical Ron fashion, he became rather flustered, and I could just envision his ears turning bright red as he stuttered, "But there's no--Herm--That whole thing with Lav--" He stopped himself short, and I felt him take a deep breath before beginning again, though this time in more of a hushed tone, "Anything for you, Hermione."

And so we danced, both ignoring the fact there wasn't any music. Both of us entirely caught up in each other's arms. It was in that precise moment I knew. Well, perhaps not "knew" as much as "finally realized what I'd known, however subconsciously, all along." It was in that moment I finally was able to admit to myself that I was in love with Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Slowly I became vaguely aware we were no longer moving, though I couldn't be sure which of us had stopped first.

"Hermione?" he questioned quietly.

I answered with a dull, "Yeah?" as I moved my head from his chest to look up at his face. I knew my cheeks were flushed, though I hoped he wouldn't notice; after all, how would I even begin to explain any of this to him?

Ron's eyes met mine. I noticed they seemed entirely unreadable; it was usually so easy to decipher what he was thinking through his eyes. However, I wasn't left wondering for long. He brought up a hand and let his fingertips brush the hair out of my eyes, gently tucking it behind my left ear. And with that he bent down slightly and slowly brushed his lips across mine.

"Well, it's about bloody time." Harry called from the doorway. Ron and I both jumped apart at the sound of his voice, snapping our attention to the lanky raven-haired boy.

But Harry just grinned and threw a wink at Ron, seemingly unfazed that he had just walked in on something rather personal between Ron and me. He strode into the room and for one horrible moment I was sure he was going to settle himself on the dark green chair I had been lounging in only moments before. But instead he pulled me into a quick hug whispering, "I knew it, Herms. He'll take good care of you." He turned to Ron and simply clapped him on the shoulder, making no attempt to lower his voice as he boasted, "I told you she'd come around, mate. You really should've listened."

He left the room muttering something that sounded a lot like, "...don't think I know a thing about it. I'm the boy-who-lived for god's sake." And, "...enough life experience to fill three lives..." Though I'm relatively sure he _had _meant for us to hear him, and had only hoped we'd him humorous. It was quite plain he found himself humorous, anyway.

Ron grinned at me, "How about we try that again; though, this time, without any distractions."

And for once, I found I had no objection to one of his suggestions.

* * *

**A/N**: Apologies on this being so short. I'd say there really wasn't much to go with it, but it's mostly because I'm feeling exceptionally lazy. Regardless, I hope you all liked it. :)

Thanks to **J-J7** for reviewing on the last chapter. You're, like, totally super :)

Oddly enough none of what I've put up this far is the central plot. I don't really like it when fics will introduce something tragic (like the death of a character) and then the main character gets over it within, seemingly, no time at all. I think it's mostly because I don't feel it's something I'd be able to get over so quickly, and I'd do lots of dwelling. But perhaps that's not normal, hm?

_Nevertheless_, chapter five will introduce my other main character. And then things might become a bit clearer, plot wise anyway.

Also, being the only child that I am, I'm a practiced beggar. **Please, pleeaasseee review? **Pretty please? It'd make me so happy. I'll even thank you & answer any questions you have. Promise. :)


	5. Dirty Little Secret

**A/N: **Sorry, I just had to go with the title ;) - Wow, is it that time already? The weeks just seem to be flying by. Let's get this moving. I hereby introduce the catalyst to my fic: Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco Malfoy hated his life. It was just that simple. He'd always hated his life. He used to blame his father for his life being so fucked up. He still let old Lucius hold some of the blame, but it was apparent at some point Draco had started taking an active role in turning his life into the disaster it now was.

Even though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he truly believed had he been born into another family things would've turned out differently for him. There were just so many things about the world that he, even at the age of 20, still couldn't understand. Realizing your parents were wrong to teach you everything they had is a tough thing to come to terms with at any age. It didn't help matters that his parents weren't even alive to explain the reasoning behind their madness. Well, it wasn't as if he exactly needed an explanation. After all, he'd understood their prerogative perfectly for the first 17 years of his life. He should've known life wouldn't stay so simple.

The things he had done kept him awake at night. He didn't know enough about the human condition to understand that what he was feeling was his conscience. He didn't know that normal people had to contend with their actions on a daily basis. This truly was all a very new concept to the young blonde man.

He couldn't quite pinpoint when he began to see things in a different light. It just seemed as if one day things weren't as he had always believed them to be. He saw errors in so many of the things that had become mere habits to him.

The irony of it all was, all of these realizations had taken place during his sixth and final year at Hogwarts. They had taken place before Snape murdered Dumbledore. Somehow, he felt that Dumbledore had known this about Draco; that he had known he'd changed inside. Dumbledore had given him an out, an escape. And he had done nothing with it. And now it was too late. Years too late.

He should've turned to the light on that fateful day. Instead he ran off into the forest, following Snape, and thus beginning what would be the darkest chapter in his life.

It made him ill to think of the things he had done to all those innocent muggles. It made him equally ill to be filled with remorse over his actions. After all, they were only a step up from beasts... - No, he didn't believe that. Not anymore. Not really anyway. It was hard to figure out just what he believed anymore.

It wasn't that he was against the Dark Lord, he just... Wasn't with him either. Or the light side for that matter. He just simply began not caring what the outcome of the war would be. Well, not to say he'd ever cared. He was more interested with looking out for himself. However it was his indifference that caught up to him in the end. He unwittingly became sloppy with covering his tracks. It wasn't long before Aurors caught up with him. They captured him and he was brought into Auror Headquarters for comprehensive questioning. By that point he was positive he didn't care about the Dark Lord and his followers. He did what he had to do to survive: he told them what he knew, and it was a damn lot. He had only hoped at the time that it would be enough to save his skin. They didn't look it, but those Aurors could be damn intimidating when they wanted to be, even if he had never let his intimidation show.

They didn't believe the things he revealed to them, at first. They refused to believe Draco Malfoy had been so easy to crack. It was strange they hadn't realized he was only looking out for himself. Typical Malfoy behaviour. Well, almost anyway.

After Potter, the fucking redeemer of the entire universe (as per usual), saved humanity from Voldemort's clutches (did he need to add "again"?),  Seriously... Who hadn't seen _that _one coming? Hell, even Trelawney had caught on.  the Aurors decided to let Draco go free. Though, only after extensive testing; they had decided he wasn't a threat to anyone other than himself. And that was good enough for them. He was relieved, to say the least, that he'd come out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. It still pissed him off Potter got all the credit though. He was positive the information he'd given to the Aurors had played a big part in the downfall of the Dark Lord.

So now he was free. He was free for what could very well have been the first time in his life. And he had no idea what to do with himself. He had no idea how to act. The people he had grown up with and had lived with were either all dead or locked away. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that he didn't care. But the simple fact remained: Draco Malfoy was all alone.

But hadn't he been preparing for this fate his entire life?

I woke with a sudden start. I quickly shot out of bed to check my appearance in the mirror hung above my bureau. No, I wasn't _that _vain. I simply had to convince myself my dream hadn't been reality. Those nights my dreams were almost always the same. I might've had a chance at getting rid of them if I only had someone to talk them over with. Though it wasn't as if I believe in anything that has anything remotely to do with Divination. Well, at least I try not to.

It had proved to be more difficult to maintain such a stance night after gruelling night considering the dreams I had been having. The only positive thing about my newest recurring dream was there was no chance of it becoming a reality.

You see, the only other person that joined me in this dream is long since dead. I know because I was there when Voldemort finally finished him off.  Well, not technically; it had been another one of my dreams. Though, I suppose 'dream' really wasn't the correct terminology, but to label the things I saw as 'visions' would make it seem all too tangible. I had actually been locked up and was under close Auror supervision at the time.  Of course the entire wizarding world had been devastated at the loss of their beloved Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived. I wasn't though. I couldn't be. After all, it had been an entirely necessary measure to free the world from their eminent demise at the hand of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. And you know, if it happened to get me off the hook as well, I wasn't exactly going to complain.

Maybe if I had known I would later be plagued with returning dreams including him, of all people, I might've thought twice. Death through evil forces might have held a bit more appeal.

I looked into the mirror one last time. Things certainly seemed to be in place: my blonde hair, even though it was plastered to my scalp with sweat, was still, in fact, _my _blonde hair; my grey eyes still held their guarded guise, even from myself; my forehead was flawless as it had always been. I sighed as I closed my eyes. I repeated my mantra, "I am not in love with Harry Potter. No matter what dreams I have."

Odd, isn't it? If it weren't so damn frustrating and terrifying as hell I might've been able to laugh about it. But I couldn't. Not when I dreamt, every night, about myself searching through the Forbidden Forest for Potter. Inevitably, I find him. He is always sitting on a patch of moss-covered ground, propping himself up against a petrified tree. The moonlight always splays across his forehead, as if spotlighting his infamous scar. He always turns his head in my direction, his emerald eyes meeting mine. And every night I am filled with the same feeling of affection for the deceased raven-haired wizard. In my dream there is no subconscious voice in my head telling me to snap out of it. All that exists are the two of us. I would stand there in the forest next to him for what seemed to be hours, simply gazing down into those eyes of his. And every night I jolt awake, with the undeniable feeling that when I look into the mirror I'll see Potter's face instead of my own.

What did it mean? What did any of it mean?

I returned to my bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, burying my head in my hands. If these dreams didn't stop soon, I couldn't be held accountable for what I did to myself.

The only solace I had was the knowledge that I wouldn't dream of him again tonight. I gingerly slipped back in between the silk sheets on my bed at Malfoy Manor.

After all those years, I had ended up here, of all places. Though, it had only stood to reason. I was the only Malfoy left and I wouldn't have even been able to _give_ the place away. Too many people feared the dark magic would never be gone from inside the walls of the mansion I now called, for the second time in my life, home. And I think I would have to agree with them.

As if on cue something in the hall came crashing to the ground. It didn't startle me though, whatever had just caused the ruckus was undeniably something with dark magic that managed to survive the dozen or so Ministry confiscation searches. No, there would be no getting rid of the mansion. I wouldn't have been surprised if dark magic had very literally helped build it.

I sighed. There didn't seem to be any escape in store for me. I would inevitably rot away here. At least after I'd gone insane I would have the portraits for company.

* * *

**A/N:** The narrative of Draco at the beginning was supposed to be sort of in a Draco-type mindset. I don't really hate Harry, but as we all know, Draco does. That's all I was trying to convey.

I'm not too sure where to go with Draco from here, so I apologize this chapter's so short.

Did I do the math right? Would Draco be 20 years old if it's been three years after sixth year?

Also, this isn't going to become a slashy fic. I just kinda like messing around with Draco. And my friend Jilly is a sucker for the DM/HP ships, and I promised her a slashy dream, though I didn't have the heart to make it very slashy at all. :)

**Review?**


	6. Offers and Allegations

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it!

**A/N**: Just me continuing on...

* * *

The next morning I slowly slipped into consciousness. I can't deny it was much more pleasant way to wake up than being jarred awake from dreams about the-boy-who-lived. I sleepily rolled myself over, away from the bright sunlight that was making its way through the hangings on the windows, and yawned as I opened my eyes. I remember briefly wondering what time it was before I realized all was not right in my chamber. Specifically, there was something distinctly ...out of place in my bed.

I quickly ran over last night's events in my head. It had been just like dozens before it. I had stayed inside the Manor. I had read a book while sitting in front of the fire in my father's old study. I had returned to my chambers late, and hadn't even bothered showering. I had woken up in the middle of the night, Potter dream as per usual. No where in my recollection had there been a girl. More specifically, a girl in my bed.

She was laying with her bare back facing me, the sheets -- my sheets -- only pulled up so far. Her long crimson hair was seemingly strewn everywhere around her head. I could see her torso expand as she took a breath, obviously still in a very deep sleep.

If my father were still alive I would've been certain this was one of his tricks or worse. But he was long since dead and I knew for a fact I was the only one residing in the manor. Even the house elves had left, something I had yet to fully figure out. I fleetingly wondered if dark magic had reached a new level, but the thought was simply to absurd to entertain for longer than a moment.

I wondered if there was any chance of my getting out of the room without her noticing. Forget that, I needed to find my wand, and fast. Finding strangers in ones bed doesn't usually have such favourable outcomes.

I slowly slipped out from underneath the sheets and tiptoed across the room to my desk, where I was almost positive I'd left my wand.

Without warning she sat up, now fully awake. Her green eyes glinting in the light from the window. They seemed to hold a haunting gaze of sorts, yet also held something very familiar, even though I couldn't place at the moment. She took a breath and then in an eerily airy voice said, as if rehearsed, "She's looking for you; a constant vigilance in her search. You are but a piece of what she seeks. Once the pieces are joined, they will help re-establish the light. ...They're coming for you."

I fell to the ground, when I opened my eyes the girl was gone. I was sprawled out beside my bed, undoubtedly having only just fallen off of it. I should've known it was a dream.

As I lay on the floor I couldn't help but wonder at the dreams I'd been having as of late. Cruel was precisely what they were. And they were seriously messing with my beauty sleep.

I sighed deeply and pulled myself up off of the floor.

Just as I had returned myself to my bed, a large brown owl appeared at my window, carrying what seemed to be a rather lengthy letter.

I grudgingly moved off my bed, unhurriedly making my way to the window to open it. The owl fluttered in and situated itself on top of my mahogany desk and waited for me to detach the letter. After I had done so, it simply flew out the still open window, not waiting for anything from me.

Absentmindedly I shut the window while I slowly unrolled the parchment:

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I, Miverva McGonagall, request your presence for an appointment on the sixteenth of this month to discuss the reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The meeting will be held in Hogsmeade, at what once was known as the Three Broomsticks before the war. I'm sure you remember it. _

_I hope to see you there. I have an important position in mind for you and I'm quite sure you're the best for it._

_Minerva McGonagall_

Well, I thought, that's certainly interesting. My eyes wandered to the other foot or so of filled parchment left. But, if that's all McGonagall wanted, what is the rest of that?

The handwriting visibly changed to a neat and very small handwriting after McGonagall's signature:

_Malfoy,_

_I know McGonagall thinks you're best suited for the position of Potions master. I've begun to wonder if becoming headperson of Hogwarts does people's heads in. First Dumbledore's unshakable faith in Snape, and now hers in you. _

_Well, I'll have you know I'm not buying it for a moment, Malfoy. Not one bit. People don't change, especially not people who've done the things I **know **you've done. You needn't bother denying it. I'll hear none of it. _

_I don't care if you **did** help us win the war. Surprised I knew about that? Surprised Harry didn't keep that little tidbit to himself? I'll have you know he told everyone you helped us. God knows why. Everyone would've much rather believed it was solely he who had tracked Voldemort down. Toward the end I think he actually believed you'd changed, that you wanted what was best for the entire world, and not just for yourself. I didn't buy it then and I certainly don't buy it now. You've only always looked out for yourself. You wouldn't have given the Aurors any of the information you had if you hadn't seen some sort of personal gain in it for you. I have yet to figure out what that might've been, but I'm sure there was something. You are and always will be a Malfoy._

_I'm sure at this point you're probably thinking, "Oh, stupid girl still isn't over the fact I teased her at school." I'll assure you it's nothing of the sort. I simply want what's best for Hogwarts, and the school certainly doesn't need someone as erratic and arrogant as you on the scene; especially for during our first year being reopened. _

_I don't know why McGonagall doesn't seem to understand this. Hogwarts needs stable professors. The children have already missed out on so much. And that's what Hogwarts is about: the children. Keeping them safe and educating them. _

_So, for once in your life I'm requesting that you do the responsible thing. Stay away from Hogwarts. You could only make things worse. Besides, I remember you constantly saying you didn't like it there all that much anyway. So give the everyone a break and keep your aristocratic nose out of it._

_-Professor Hermione Granger_

I rolled the parchment back up. Who the hell did Granger think she was? As if I wouldn't do something simply because she ranted at me not to. Actually, her ranting made me want to go to the meeting, if only to get under her skin. It'd been awhile before I'd had the pleasure of ruffling someone's feathers, I had to admit I missed it. Of course, there was no way in hell I'd actually consider teaching at Hogwarts. I mean, honestly, what appeal did that hold? None whatsoever.

Though, I always _had _liked Potions. I was rather brilliant, if I do say so myself. I smirked as I contemplated Granger's rant, though it faded a tad when I recalled the bit about Potter telling everyone I had given up information. I hadn't expected that. It just proved what a complete and utter moron he had been. He had the chance for even more glory and he just handed it off to me. However, when in my possession, it was no longer glory. It became a series of ulterior motives on my part. Though, Granger hadn't been wrong. I _had _gotten something out of it for myself: my life. Not that it meant so much these days. But maybe it would again someday...

I sat down at my desk and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment:

_Professor McGonagall, _

_I'm quite interested to hear of your plans. I shall see you there._

_Draco Malfoy_

I set the piece of parchment aside and pulled out another new piece:

_Granger, _

_Do you really think my nose is aristocratic? I've never been quite sure. Some days I find it more along the lines of a pure-blooded structure. But wait, you wouldn't understand about that, now would you?_

_I'm assuming you're planning on being at the Three Broomsticks on the sixteenth? Well, I'll see you there. It's really been too long since we've last graced each other's presence._

_Draco Malfoy_

* * *

**A/N**: Okay people... Seriously. I will love you forever if you review! Annnd, um... share the secret of immortality with you. Yeah, that's right. Immortality. Anyway... Just tell me what you're thinking. Pretty please with a cherry on top? No reviews means no update next week. You know, just so you know. I shall withhold my angsty writings until I see fit! ;)

Until then,

tahwekilelohcin


	7. So Far Away

**Disclaimer**: There are only so many ways a girl can say "I don't own it." I, myself, have temporarily run out of ideas. Better luck next time?

**A/N**: It's an attack of the angst-monster! Apologies, all.

* * *

If I were I diary-type girl, I'll tell you exactly how I would start out today's entry: 

_Dear diary, have I mentioned just how much I despise Draco Malfoy lately? _

But that would be both childish and unconstructive. I, for one, have better things to do with my time. Like finding a way to rid my life of one Draco Malfoy.

To be succinct, today was a total waste of time. I tried telling McGonagall it would be weeks ago, but she refused to listen to me. She knew Malfoy would take the job as Potions master. I only hoped she'd be wrong.

I won't bother going into details of what happened, the abridged version will do just fine. In short, Malfoy accepted the job. In short, I was highly upset by this. In short, I'm spending the entire next year in the presence of Malfoy. Only this year there is about a zero percent chance I'll get to see him in ferret form.

Last week I'd been _so _looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, returning to some sort of normalcy. However, now I knew I was going to be forced to deal with Malfoy. Suddenly Hogwarts had lost a tiny bit of its appeal.

The worst part of it was that he knew I felt this way. And he knew I knew he knew. Knowing that just infuriated me to no end. It also made my coherent thoughts a bit off from their normal calibre, if it wasn't obvious.

To put things in the simplest of terms: I had exactly three Malfoy-free days left. Three days before the teaching staff would return to Hogwarts, for the first time in three years. I decided I would spend my time reflecting upon the positive aspects of everything. After all, it really was simply amazing McGonagall had been able to convince the Ministry to let the school reopen. It was also fortuitous she'd been able to find wizards and witches experienced enough in their field who were willing to take over the roll of professor.

In fact, things were going quite as planned.

Well, going as planned as much as anything was after everything we had all been through in the past, what with the war and the loss of so many lives. If I wanted to be technical, I would admit, in fact, none of this had been a part of my original plan. My original plan varied along the lines of: marrying my beloved Ron after graduation from Hogwarts in a wedding which would've been much like that of Bill and Fluer's; I would have then applied for and won employment with the Ministry; later we would have had children. I know it's foolish, but I even had picked out names, though now thinking back on it, I have no idea when I even found time to think about trivial things about the future when the fate of the entire world depended on what we were helping Harry do. Nevertheless, there were names: Briar for a girl and Aden for a boy.

Now all of those plans were only a part of a future that would never be. They had been such for so long it was difficult to remember a time when I envisioned them becoming a reality. I had been foolish at the least. Perhaps naïve is a better term though.

But then again, it wouldn't be out of line to say I presently am jaded against the world.

* * *

While Hermione was contemplating her past envisions of the future, someone who might as well have been a world away was trying desperately to remember any remnant of the past. For, you see, something horrible had happened, stripping away any memory of the past and leaving an empty space in place of recollections. 

To say he was now a stranger would not be entirely incorrect since he was but a mere glimpse of what he had once been. That isn't to say he understood this. He was quite in the dark about everything and there certainly didn't seem to be anyone in the near vicinity who was able to fill in any of the numerous blanks that was his earlier life.

It was rather late and he was finding difficulty in keeping his eyes open. Pulling his gaze from the open window overlooking the English countryside, he furtively glanced across the small room he now called home. Well, technically, the only place he ever remembered calling home. It was sad, to say the least, this place represented his standard of home; especially considering his former standard couldn't have been more different. Now home was a solitary, lifeless place. He couldn't remember what "home" had once been, but he was certain it hadn't been anything like this place. Not that he wasn't grateful for this place, but something just didn't feel right.

Comforted by a soft breeze from the window, he found he could no longer fight off his drowsiness. He gave in and slipped into his usual dreamless sleep, his scarlet hair moving ever so slightly across his freckled face.

* * *

I must've dozed off at the kitchen table in the midst of seething about Malfoy and mourning my past, because later that same night I woke with a start, eyes flying open and instantly focusing on the half-moon outside the open window above the sink. I slowly remembered the dream I had been having... 

I had been standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest on Hogwarts' grounds when suddenly I caught a glimpse of fiery red hair across the lake. There were only so many people who had hair like that, it was certainly a Weasley. My mind raced through possibilities: Charlie, Ron, Bill, Fred, Percy, George... Oh, how I'd love to be in the presence of any one of them. Yes, even Percy.

It hadn't been right they'd all been lost in the war. It hadn't been right at all. It was sheer torture for Molly. How many nights had I sat with her, holding her hand as she cried? Arthur had eventually gotten to the point where he was no longer able to console her, and after that he'd become horribly distant. I could only rationalize he was distancing himself to prevent further pain. He didn't realize how much pain it was causing everyone else. But that's what war will do to people, it makes rational people go mad. The human race was not built to withstand so much personal loss, especially in such a short period of time. A tear ran down my cheek with the memory.

The rest of my dream was now lost to me. The reality of my past was too great to recall and simply push away again. It was for this very reason I had been avoiding any thoughts of the past for the last few weeks. I had known it wasn't right. I had _known _if I evaded those thoughts I wouldn't ever be able to fully heal. But, who was I to ever be whole again? Who was I to wallow in the loss of my best friends when there were people like Molly who lost absolutely everything? Who was I to still be alive? I rose from the kitchen table and made my way to my empty bedroom. I flopped onto my bed and buried my face in the nearest pillow and sobbed until my mind and body finally relented and allowed me to return to sleep.

* * *

_Hermione was standing outside in the pouring rain, in the middle of a muggle parking lot. She seemed to be waiting for someone to pick her up. As my car approached her drenched form I noticed how cold she really was, her lips were most certainly blue. I cracked the window on the drivers side and called out, "You could've phoned me for a ride, it's a mess out there." _

_Moving toward my car, she teased through chattering teeth, "The rain's the rain. Some air'd be good for you." _

_She got in my car where it was certainly warmer, thanks to the heater I had running on full blast. She caught my eyes in the most intense gaze, her brown eyes were alive with some unnamable thing._

_She whispered, "Don't forget." My eyes were glued to those brown eyes of hers and my mind had trouble forming a reply. There was no way I would ever be able to forget. _

_

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_

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**A/N**: The mystery dream sequence was totally stolen from the Jack's Mannequin song entitled "You Can Breathe." As far as the whole sequence goes, I'll just say things aren't quite what they seem. Dreams are tricky that way. :) 

ALSO, I have come up with the plotline for the rest of my fic, but only today I realized just how much freaking homework I have to do (mostly in the form of reading textbooks). It's seriously not a good time and I have a feeling if I don't start now I'll never be able to get it all done.

Therefore I must rethink the amount of updates I'll be able to do. Not that anyone particularly cares since no one reviews...but you know.

I'm not really sure when I'll be updating, but it really won't be too long of a wait, I don't think. Like, nothing longer than a month or so. I mean, my classes have to let up on me at some point, don't they?


	8. Is the Past Just That?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. I don't even own the bed I sleep in every night.

**A/N**: Alas, another chapter!

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Packing had begun.

I know it's slightly odd, but I've always preferred packing the Muggle way. At least when I pack my own things I know exactly where they are in the trunk. You know, if for some unforeseen reason I have to go digging through it before boarding the train. However, I didn't have an overabundance of things to pack, since I was still living at Grimmauld Place and everything else I used to own had been long since either left behind or destroyed.

It only struck me today that I should've begun replacing the things I'd lost during the war, but material things just didn't seem very important anymore. At least that's until I began packing my things into an old oversized trunk I found in the room Buckbeak used to reside in.

I had exactly four casual robes and no dress ones. Need I mention one of the four I did have was the very one I'd worn when I'd gone with McGonagall to the Ministry; the one that had been one of my old school robes? I dug through the armoire I'd claimed as mine when Fred and I first came to this place after the war. It seemed like that all had been such a long time ago. It didn't feel right to be leaving without him. I felt that by leaving this place, I was leaving the only part of Fred I had anymore.

I temporarily abandoned my packing, losing myself in a memory of the not-so-distant past:

_I woke up early that morning, like so many before it and found Fred beside me on my bed. I unwittingly smiled as I gazed at him from my pillow. He was obviously in a very deep sleep, his nose slightly twitching as the wind coming from the open window made his shaggy hair brush ever-so slightly across his face. He was laying on top of the covers in one of his many Quiddich team t-shirts (though, I'll never understand why a wizarding sports team had muggle-like paraphernalia for their fans). Tonight he was wearing a blazing orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt which clashed horribly with his hair. _

_As if he had felt me watching him, his eyes fluttered slightly and opened, eventually focusing on me. He sleepily smiled and mumbled something entirely indiscernible. _

_I lifted an eyebrow in amusement as I asked, "Now, what was that, love?"_

_He yawned, clearly taking his time before he could be bothered to respond. Rubbing his eyes he spoke, this time more coherently, "Why is it your room is always so much colder than mine?"_

_"Well, maybe because in your room you actually use the blankets provided for you on the bed." I teased, snuggling under the covers of my bed a bit more to prove my point. _

_That is, until Fred began to pout shamelessly. _

_I giggled, "Hey, don't look at me that way. I never said anything about you not being able to join me. You're the one who apparently couldn't be bothered to climb underneath the blankets."_

_He responded in a hoarse, entirely unconvincing voice, "But, Hermione - Too much effort - So weak..." _

_I smiled, "Oh for Merlin's sake, Fred. Honestly." And with that I yanked on the covers with all the strength I could manage for five in the morning and sent him flying, quite nicely, might I add, off my bed and onto the hardwood floor._

_There was a moments silence before I heard a muffled groan followed by a sharp intake of breath before he spoke, "Now love, was that entirely necessary? I mean, really. Besides, it is certainly no warmer here on the floor."_

_Grinning, I moved to his side of the bed and poked my head over the edge. And what do you know, there was Fred looking rather pathetic on the floor next to my fuzzy green slippers. _

_Fred, however, seemed to still be a bit cranky from only having just woken up; well, maybe the whole ending up on the floor thing might've had something to do with his disposition as well. He gazed up at me with a dangerous flicker in his brown eyes, "Oh, so you think this is funny do you? Well--"_

_I'm not quite sure what he said after that, since I found myself on the floor -- well, technically on top of Fred, something I'm sure he hadn't counted on -- because he'd decided it was only fair I receive the same treatment I'd given him. _

_He probably would've been laughing at me, if only I hadn't knocked the air right out of him when I landed on him. When he finally caught his breath he wheezed out, "Oh, that's gonna leave a mark."_

_Moving off of him I kissed his forehead and smiled, "Well, I rather think it serves you right. What good did you think would come of pulling me off my bed?"_

_Not missing a beat he explained, "Well, you see, I hadn't thought it through that far."_

_I was now laying beside him on the floor, which really was quite cold. Now I was certainly fully awake. We laid there in silence for a few moments before he finally broke the silence, _

_"Hermione, what are you thinking about?"_

_I turned my head to face him, finding him already staring at me. _

_I sighed and began, "Fred, what's going to happen with us?" I paused momentarily, not really expecting a response to such a broad question, but before I could continue he replied in a hushed tone, wrapping his left hand over my right, _

_"We're going to get back in bed and sleep until the morning comes. We're going to treasure every day we have together. We're going to do what it takes to help Harry in his quest. We're going to prevail; and we're going to prevail because we've got each other," he paused, "Forever and always."_

_And with that he rose from the floor, bringing me up with him. _

I blinked several times in succession, the memory fading away as quickly as it had enveloped me.

I could feel moisture building up in the corners of my eyes, but I couldn't let myself cry. I tore my gaze away from the bed. Maybe leaving Grimmauld Place would be all right after all; the memories these walls held could surely drive me insane if given enough time. Besides, I had to leave. It wasn't a matter of whether I felt like it or not. The children at Hogwarts needed me. With that thought I commenced packing my limited things into the enormous trunk once again.

I had almost finished when there was a small knock at my door. I found this odd because usually the other inhabitants leave me to myself, knowing that's how I prefer it... and need it to be. I made my way over to the ancient mahogany door as I heard another knock come from the other side. I opened the door to see Lupin standing there, holding something in his hands.

He gave me a small smile and simply said, "This belongs to you more than anyone else. Harry would want you to have it."

And with that he handed over something I recognized all too well: Harry's invisibility cloak. Lupin looked like he wanted to say more, but at the last minute decided better of it. Instead he patted me on the shoulder and swiftly turned around and headed back down the hall to the staircase. I turned from the door, slowly closing it behind me.

Harry's invisibility cloak.

I clutched it with both hands, smiling despite the tears that had begun running down my face. Yes, I would most definitely be taking this with me. Hogwarts just wouldn't have been Hogwarts without it. It was almost as if Harry had given this to me himself.

I folded it up carefully and placed in on top of my robes, beside a small stack of books in the trunk.

Now it was only a small matter of time before I once again found myself back within the walls of Hogwarts.

Packing had been finished.

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**A/N**: Special thanks to my reviewers **Ydnas5** and **Astrianna Glaze**!

**Ydnas5**, yeah, I'm kinda tricky like that ...or something. There's definitely a mysterious redhead on the loose, it's all just a matter of whom. :D

**Astrianna Glaze**, once again I thank you for reviewing! It really means a lot to me :) ...I love the Weasley twins. I can't wait for Goblet of Fire to be in theatres, oh how I will swoon for them :D

Once again, I'm not exactly sure when the next update will be. But fear not! It won't be a terribly long time. :)


	9. Left and Leaving

**Disclaimer**: Wait, I don't own it? Well, okay.

**A/N**: Sorry this took so freaking long. I had some issues getting back into the story. But alas, here it is!

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Three days later I stood in front of Grimmalud Place; I gazed at it wondering if this would be the last time I set my eyes upon it. It wasn't exactly warm and welcoming or anything, but ...well, you know. It was just I'd spent almost four months living there with Fred (another two mourning the loss of him) and living with everyone else that had ever meant anything to me. This foreboding mansion was still home to the few people I had left in this world. And I was leaving. 

I pushed the thoughts away once again. I had to leave. I had to move on. It's what they would want for me. They would've understood why I had to forget them. It just hurt too much.

I took a step back and within an instant the place I'd called home for quite some time had simply disappeared, just as it was supposed to.

The car McGonagall had promised me was parked on the opposite side of the street. Dragging my trunk, I crossed road to the car, loaded it up, and slowly pulled out into traffic.

I silently thanked my father for forcing me to learn how to drive during the brief time I'd been home the summer of my fifth year. At the time it had seemed so futile. I mean, really. Voldemort was planning to take over the world, stage an ethnic cleansing of sorts and all my dad wanted to do was make sure I knew how to drive? However, I'd caved in after two days of him pestering me. I had felt sorry for having to leave them again so soon. I felt I owed him in some way, so I let him teach me how to drive. Actually, I think it made him feel significant in my life again, being able to teach me to do something. I don't suppose it had ever been easy being parents of someone like me.

A few hours later I found myself standing at the main gate of Hogwarts.

A couple hours even later I had almost fully unpacked my trunk; books placed on shelves in the sitting room, clothes neatly hung up and folded away in my bedroom. I had stashed Harry's cloak in the top of the set of drawers in my armoire.

The last thing to be put away was Hogwarts: A History. Picking it out of the trunk, I moved from my bedroom back out into the sitting room, and standing on the tips of my toes, I pushed the heavy volume up onto the topmost shelf, then returned my feet to the floor to stand back and survey my living quarters, which really were quite nice.

Naturally, most everything had been decorated in burgundy and gold; from the small couch in the sitting room to the cherry wood table, chairs, and desk in the sitting room, which were all accented with gold knobs. I briefly wondered what Malfoy's room would look like, before mentally slapping myself. I knew if I kept wondering about him I'd end up as Harry had during sixth year: obsessed with Malfoy's every movement. Though, I didn't have the Marauders' map as Harry had; which, to be honest, I never had any desire to have. I really didn't care to know what the students (or teachers, for that matter) were up to when I was in my own quarters.

I gave the sitting room one last glance before retreating into my bedroom, lying down on the bed for a nap before the teachers' meeting later that night with McGonagall.

o0o

It was now a day before the students were due to arrive and I still hadn't caught even a glimpse of Draco Malfoy's shadow lurking anywhere in the halls of Hogwarts. Don't get me wrong, I was glad I hadn't. But I was almost certain he hadn't even arrived at Hogwarts yet. How was that for shirking his responsibilities? Oh yes, Minerva, I'm sure Mr. Draco Malfoy will be a fine professor. Never mind the small fact that, oh, he's nowhere to be found.

Maybe I was just bitter. Though, I couldn't tell you why that might be. Maybe I just wanted to get our first encounter over with; you know, get a feel for the situation and what I'd be dealing with this year. Or worse, for even longer. But no, there wouldn't be any way that he'd be able to last longer than a year teaching. At least I hoped not.

Did McGonagall even know he hadn't bothered to grace us with his presence yet? I decided to go speak with her.

I had only just entered through the door of her office, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of her oak desk, beginning to voice my grievances against Malfoy when there was a sharp knock at the door, which was now to my back.

I pointedly didn't turn to greet the intruder. Couldn't they see I was already speaking with her?

McGonagall gave a ghost of a smile and greeted the person, much to my personal shock and dismay, "Ah, Professor Malfoy, I've been awaiting your arrival. I hope you're well?"

I could feel my shoulders sag, yet tense at the very same time. I wouldn't turn around and acknowledge his presence. I simply wouldn't.

McGonagall beamed (yes, actually beamed) at me saying, "Now Ms. Granger..."

But he cut her off, addressing me, "Granger still, is it? What, the Weasel never did get his hands on you?"

I silently cursed myself for not having gotten this conversation out of the way that day we all met in Hogsmeade; I however, had opted for complete silence, instructing McGonagall to leave me entirely out of the proceedings.

Unfortunately his inquiry left me with only one practical option: turning around and speaking with him. But I didn't have to be pleasant about it.

Giving him my best glare, I responded coolly, "Now Malfoy, you know very well Ron and I couldn't exactly fit a happily-ever-after into our busy schedule."

And to my great (and might I add, naïve) surprise the twit actually snorted.

I could feel the rage building up inside my veins.

Before I could stop from questioning him, I had: "What?"

He was still standing in the doorway, only now he was propping himself up against the doorjamb, looking down his nose at me. He replied in an even, condescending tone, "You just keep telling yourself that," then he turned his attention to McGonagall, "Minerva, if you don't mind, I'd rather like to have a word with you." His eyes moved back to mine as he added, "In private."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say a single thing McGonagall had chimed in,

"Yes, Draco, there are quite a few things I need to bring you up to speed on. Now, Hermione, if you'll excuse us?"

There wasn't really anything I could say. I slowly rose from my chair, moving past Malfoy as I exited through her office door. It took all the self-control I possessed not to kick him in the shins.

o0o

The next few weeks passed without incident. It was fascinating to be a part of the teaching staff, especially since Hogwarts had been closed for awhile. I didn't really have much contact with the newest students though, since the option to take Arithmancy began with the Third Years. I really felt like I was where I should be when I was teaching my students. It just felt so right to be back here, especially after what the entire wizarding world had been through. I once again had a purpose; I was preparing the children for the world, a world that I had helped rescue from the clutches of darkness.

However, I didn't exactly find myself mingling with my fellow educators after classes concluded at the end of each day. I would retreat to my room until darkness fell, reading and planning lessons.

The nighttime was another story. More often than not I would shroud myself in Harry's old invisibility cloak and simply wander the Hogwarts grounds. I never even considered my own safety once. After all, it was Hogwarts; everyone was safe here. What had happened during my sixth year had been one isolated, horrible incident. It was relieving to feel so safe again.

So I would walk the grounds, almost like a groundskeeper patrolling the land. It was just so peaceful, not to mention magical, what with the stars glinting through the night sky and reflecting off of the lake where the giant squid still resided, having been entirely unscathed by the war.

Some nights I would find myself at the Quidditch pitch. Others, outside of Hagrid's old hut. Some I would simply lounge in front of the glassy lake, listening to the water move. And every once in awhile it would almost feel as if I were still a student, and I was simply walking around in an effort to pass some time while waiting for Harry and Ron to join me.

Which is precisely why, on one fateful night, when I heard footsteps approaching me from behind, it didn't strike me as the least bit odd. That is until I turned from the shore of the lake, still hidden under Harry's cloak, to see one Draco Malfoy coming almost directly at me.

He had an almost ethereal glow about him, his light blonde hair framing his pale features which were all illuminated by the waxing moon that hung fairly high in the night sky.

I didn't dare move, let alone breathe. Everyone's senses had been heightened throughout the war; I was sure if I made any sound whatsoever I'd be found out.

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**A/N**: Once again thanks to my reviewers! Hopefully my next chapter won't take as long to get up as this one did. :) 

**Ydnas5:** I'm glad you think the memories seem to fit in with everything else ...sometimes I'm not too sure. ;) :) Thanks again!

**andrettamaiebodi**: Why thank you. As for the red-head... it's a secret :) All will become clear eventually. ;)

**Review?**


	10. A Lack of Understanding

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the car I drive, the toaster I use... oh, or Harry Potter.

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_Last time:_

_Which is precisely why, on one fateful night, when I heard footsteps approaching me from behind, it didn't strike me as the least bit odd. That is until I turned from the shore of the lake, still hidden under Harry's cloak, to see one Draco Malfoy coming almost directly at me._

_He had an almost ethereal glow about him, his light blonde hair framing his pale features which were all illuminated by the waxing moon that hung fairly high in the night sky._

_I didn't dare move, let alone breathe. Everyone's senses had been heightened throughout the war; I was sure if I made any sound whatsoever I'd be found out. _

o0o

The lake was softly lapping against the shore. I couldn't hold my breath a second longer. When I finally allowed air to rush into my lungs, I knew he would hear it. And he did, his head snapping right in my direction. But the expression on his face was anything but a confrontational one, at first anyway.

Thoughts streamed through my mind during the minutes that passed; his eyes searching intensely, yet patiently waiting for another noise to come.

I realized then with complete certainty he, like me, must have only been out on the grounds in search for a moment wherein it was easier to pretend things were different than they were.

That's what my walks were all about. It was as if I instructed my feet, "Take me away. Take me somewhere where I'll be able to dream up another existence for myself, no matter how short of a time it lasts."

I wondered what alternate life he was searching for. One where the dark side had one? The light side? Or one where everyone on the planet, excluding him, of course, had met their demise?

No, it couldn't be true. Could it? Surely he was nothing like me.

Malfoy knitted his eyebrows together in his trademark scowl before giving one last glance in my general direction before ever so slowly backing away from the water, his feet not making a single sound.

For Merlin's sake, how had he _known_ the noise hadn't come from any of the numerous magical creatures that openly lurked the grounds at nighttime?

And just what _had_ he been doing out at this time of night? He was up to something, I was sure of it.

I was unwittingly reminded of the tirade Harry had been on for weeks after Dumbledore's death. He constantly told Ron and me that, in fact, Draco Malfoy wasn't a murderer. Or at the very least, couldn't bring himself to kill Dumbledore. I guess he thought this was significant. Harry just forgot the part where it was Malfoy who had managed a way to get all those Death Eaters into the school in the first place. Believing the best of people wasn't the best habit to keep in practice during a time of war. And the thing that had haunted Ron and me the most had been the fact Harry had been right all along; he had known Malfoy was up to something. At the time we had just chalked his paranoia and obsession with Malfoy up to all the stress Harry had endured throughout the past several years. I mean, we all have our breaking points. But Harry _had _been right; we had been wrong.

I shook my head, I wouldn't do any good to think on such things. Not now. The time for such thoughts had come and gone; the war was over. Even though I didn't know many of the details, I knew Voldemort had been defeated by Harry, who had sacrificed himself to save the world. He always did have that damn hero complex about him.

Ron and I had tried so hard to keep him grounded, remind him he was only one young wizard. He always refused to listen to us though; the expression on his face would become resolute, his green eyes growing stern as he would explain over and over again in broken sentences, "It's up to me. The prophecy... You just don't understand."

Of course we hadn't understood, both of us for different reasons. Ron because he'd grown up in this world of wizardry and knew there were people who were dedicated, qualified, and willing to help Harry until the end. Me because I'd grown up with the idea of a "happily ever after" instilled deep within my world view; and my world view was telling me that Harry fighting Voldemort alone was just not how things were supposed to happen. After all, how would that end happily for us, the infamous 'Golden Trio'?

_"You just don't understand."_

"You're right, Harry," I thought to myself, "...and I still don't."

Sighing, I rose from the ground, knowing Malfoy would be long gone by now. So much for creating an alternate reality for myself. Sometimes past and present realities were too obtrusive to forget so easily. Especially with Malfoy lurking about.

Still under the cover of Harry's cloak I made my way back to the castle and to my chambers without any trouble. As I slipped the cloak off my shoulders, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It was the first time in ages I'd witnessed myself virtually reappear out of thin air.

It always had been rather alarming to watch Harry uncloak himself after one of his many pursuits for a horocrux; somehow that had made it seem all too real. The cloak was no longer for late night adventures or for simply prowling around the halls of Hogwarts, it was now serving an insanely important purpose: it was helping protect Harry's life.

One particular night (just days after we lost George... weeks after we'd lost Ron) Harry returned to Tonks' cottage after a strangely short excursion. I heard him walking down the hall to the to the small room where I spent a large amount of my time where I researched anything and everything that could be of aide to Harry.

I heard the door open to my room and glanced up to see nothing at all.

Exasperatedly I huffed, "Honestly Harry, you can't just go traipsing through the cottage wearing that blasted thing. I would be forever grateful if you'd at least extend to me the courtesy of taking two seconds to make yourself visible. Is that really too much to ask?"

He obliged, pulling the cloak off, and I was startled to find him mere inches from me. Harry let out a short laugh. It amazed me that throughout everything Harry still seemed to be able to laugh about things. But his face showed no sign of humor whatsoever; the laugh must've been something more of habit than anything, an act in a strive for some sense of normalcy in an entirely abnormal world.

Serious eyes gazed down at me as he began, "Hermione, we need to talk."

Closing the open book in front of me and giving him my full attention I responded, "Sure Harry, have a seat."

He lowered himself onto the chair that sat on the other side of my desk, invisibility cloak gathered up in his hands. He sat in silence for a moment or two, looking as if he were struggling to come up with the words to say.

Worriedly I inquired, "Harry, it's not -- who is it this time?"

He quickly replied, "Oh, no, Hermione... Nothing like that."

I breathed a sigh of relief, "What then?"

He gave me what I assumed to be a reassuring look and began, "It's just that the Molly is really worried about Fred. It seems losing George was the last straw of sorts for him. No one's heard from him since the news arrived. But she just wanted me to let you know that she's decided it's best if we all leave Fred to himself, let him grieve in peace, you know?"

I gave him a questioning look, did he really think I had the time to even consider seeking out Fred to bother him? I glanced down at the numerous books spread out in front of me on the desk before looking back up to meet Harry's intense gaze. I gave a small smile and responded, "Of course."

Harry nodded curtly, rising from the chair saying, "All right then. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

I called out, "Goodnight, Harry" as he exited my room. I briefly wondered if the situation with Fred had been what he really had wanted to discuss with me; it was so hard to tell these days. Deciding it was best not to give it another thought, I reopened the large volume in front of me. I stared at the page for a few moments, its words just seemed to smudge together. I glanced toward the small window. The sun had set ages ago and all I could see was a reflection of myself: a pale girl, whose face seemed more drawn than natural, that very face framed by unruly plain brown hair... such ridiculous hair. Looking away, I returned my eyes to the book.

I was suddenly struck by the thought that the world was spinning out of control. There was so much I couldn't control. I felt entirely helpless, as if there was nothing I could do that would change any aspect of anything.

An idea struck me and I set to action before I could change my mind. Opening the drawer of the large desk I was sitting at, I rummaged through it. My hand grazed the very thing I had been looking for. Seizing the scissor with one hand, I pulled at a chunk of my unruly hair with the other. _Snip_. I brought the now detached hair away from my head, staring at the lock of hair I was grasping.

This was more like it, something I could finally be entirely in control of.

Dropping the detached hair and picking out another random amount of hair, I repeated the process. Soon the place where I sat was littered with lots and lots of hair. I glanced back to the window, my reflection starting back at me. I reached up and found my reflection hadn't been lying. It was all gone. Brushing away the stray pieces of hair littered across the desktop, I set back to my research.

A few moments passed, I still couldn't concentrate. Cutting my hair hadn't been enough, as I hoped it would be. There was something else I knew I had to do.

I had to go to Fred Weasley.

I quickly scrawled a note to Harry, placing it at the front of my desk. Without another thought I pushed myself back from the desk and crossed the room to the large fireplace. I fished out a bit of floo powder from the tin setting on the mantle and while throwing it into the flames I proclaimed, "Diagon Alley" and away I went.

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**A/N**: Alrighty, there's chapter 10 for you all!

**Reviewers**: You guys (ahem, girls) are the bestest ever!

**Astrianna Glaze**: thanks for reviewing! I try not to make things move too quickly, 'cause it doesn't seem that life ever moves nearly as fast as some stories do ...or something. ;) I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this chapter. :)

**andrettamaiebodi**: no, I was just saying he looked weird. I didn't mean to confuse. :) Umm... I'm guessing you're asking about the uploading process? First, you have to go to the "documents" thing & upload the document (which probably should be saved as an rtf document) and then you go to "stories" and do the whole "create new" deal... And I think that's about it. If you've got any other questions, feel free to email me (my address is on my profile page :)) Thanks again for reviewing!

**screwtheperfectlife**: thank you so much. silly thing is, reviews kinda make my eyes fill with tears, only for a, like, completely different reason. :)

**Review?**


	11. Encounters and Repercussions

**A/N & Disclaimer**: I recently discovered that not only do I dream in color, but that my dreams are also narrated. What does that have to do with the fact I don't own Harry Potter? Nothing, really. I just felt like sharing, I guess. ;)

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I decided I should try to be more careful during my nighttime excursions outside, at least for awhile anyway. Having Draco Malfoy find out I wandered the grounds was definitely not something I needed or wanted to deal with. I already had to contend with him enough on a daily basis, but then again having to deal with him at all was far too much for my liking.

No, I rather preferred to keep to myself. I spent time in my quarters, grading various pieces of my students' homework. I would spend time in my classroom, just staring at the empty seats; the room just always looked so much bigger from my perspective behind the teacher's desk. And of course I spent time pouring through volumes in the library; surprisingly there were still hundreds I'd not yet had the opportunity to peruse.

I knew that by keeping myself busy it became easier to forget the past; easier not to get lost in old memories of a life that no longer was, a life that I had trouble even imagining had ever existed. Only I knew it had existed -- and within these very walls no less.

The only flaw in my keeping-myself-busy plan was when I stopped to marvel at how well it was working, because then I would remember little snippets from the past. They always snuck up on me.

And one particular moment in the library hadn't been an exception. The past fully overtook my mind, and whisked me off to a place that had existed nearly a lifetime ago... yet really hadn't been that long ago

_Harry and Ron were playing chess. Ron, of course, had been beating Harry horribly. Enter me. Harry glanced up and grinned, despite the fact he **was** losing… again. _

_He gave me his full attention as he questioned, "Hey, Hermione. How was the library?" _

_I caught Ron taking advantage of the moment, taking his turn without Harry noticing. _

_I walked over to their table and gave Ron a look that said, "You really should be ashamed of yourself." Ron, of course, turned a light shade of red. I smiled at this and then returned my attention to Harry. _

"_The library was fine. Malfoy was there though and I had to leave earlier than intended. He was being a usual prat and wouldn't give me a moment's peace." _

_I saw Harry take a deep breath, obviously riled at the mere mention of Malfoy. _

_I tried to backtrack, "Harry, its fine really…I'm fine. It really was time for me to be going anyway. After all, who else is going to be able to help you get out of this fine mess you've gotten yourself into concerning this chess match?" _

_Harry smiled and relaxed, beckoning me to sit down, "C'mere, it's been far too long since I last won a game against Ron," he gave me his best smile and feigned dramatics as he commented, "I just can't do it without you."_

_I laughed as I pulled out a chair next to him, wasting no time in pointing out Ron's last move. _

I snapped back into reality, realizing I'd gone and done it again. Maybe another walk on the grounds would be just what I needed.

I grabbed Harry's cloak as I made my way out the door of my chambers. I crept through the long corridors, and successfully maneuvered my way down the changing staircases. As I pushed open the heavy doors a blast of cool, fresh air hit my face. _Freedom_. Freedom from the castle, from my memories, and maybe even from myself.

I was so caught up with making my way away from the castle I was quite unaware that I was still clutching Harry's cloak, not thinking to put it on yet.

I, of course, caught my mistake once I'd nearly reached the Whomping Willow. Once I had secured the cloak around myself, I stole a quick glance over my shoulder, just to make sure no one else was wandering the grounds.

Unfortunately someone else had been outside that night too. And he was quite aware he wasn't alone. I instantly froze as I realized Malfoy's eyes were locked right on me, or at least where I had last appeared to be.

This was _not_ going to be good.

o o o

It was like one moment she was there and the next, had completely vanished.

Draco sighed. It had certainly been a grueling, to say the least, three years. And after those three years, he had somehow managed to end up back here at Hogwarts. Here at Hogwarts with one of the most insufferable people he had ever had the misfortune of being stuck in the same room with. And that was saying a lot, considering the company he used to keep, in the form of Death Eaters and other dark wizards.

It wasn't that he didn't want to be at Hogwarts. It was just that it held so many memories —horrible memories— from the past. He shook his head, it wouldn't do to go delving into the past. Nothing could be gained from it. He once again focused his attention on the spot, twenty feet or so from the Whomping Willow, where he could've sworn he saw Granger disappear into thin air.

"Disappear into thin air," he repeated out loud to himself. Of course, that had to be it. After all these years, through everything... she still had that bloody cloak. Potter must've given it to her. For God's sake, she probably slept with it at night. He snorted at the thought. After all, Draco Malfoy was _still_ Draco Malfoy; if three years of war pulling everything he knew apart hadn't changed him, it was quite possible that nothing would.

Well, that wasn't entirely true though. After witnessing Dumbledore's death on that night so long ago, he'd been changed. Up to that point he'd known what the Dark Lord had expected of him. He had fully intended to do his bidding as well. But Snape... well, Snape had saved him. Not of his own free will, of course. There was no denying that Snape's loyalties truly laid with the Dark Lord, but as Draco later found out he'd made a vow to his mother Narcissa to keep him safe. Draco had to admit Snape had done just that. However he couldn't recall much else from that fateful night, not that he was overly eager to do so.

...He'd done it after all. He'd gotten caught up in memories of the past. He shook his head and thought, "Well, I suppose there are worse things I could be thinking about." His thoughts drifted to the dreams he used to have about Potter; now those were definitely not something worth thinking about. He was only pleased he had been able to stifle the dreams. Well, he hadn't done it entirely on his own; he was truly indebted to Trelawney for her help.

He realized with a start he was still staring at the place where Granger had disappeared. He growled under his breath, turning his back to the willow and quickly made his way back to the castle.

o o o

I breathed a slow sigh of relief as I safely retreated back inside castle. It had been foolish, to say the least, to think I would be able to get away with vanishing in the middle of Hogwarts' grounds without anyone noticing.

Though, my luck proved to be worse than I would've liked.

It was just typical that Malfoy had caught me using the cloak. He wouldn't be the sort to forget it either. Knowing him, he'd be right pissed. He'd rationalize it, saying it simply wasn't ethical for a teacher to use an invisibility cloak, after all, whom would a teacher be hiding from? But I knew, no matter what reasons he came up with, the true one would be simply because he was upset he didn't have one. Now, I know that sounds childish; especially for someone like me, who's been through so much. People would think I'd be wise beyond my years or something ridiculous like that, but I knew Malfoy.

He was standing outside the Great Hall before dinner the next night, waiting for me. I cringed inwardly and decided the best tactic to take would be not acknowledging his presence at all. I held my head high and walked with more of a purpose than usual. I almost got away with it too. I could tell he was shocked that I had decided on ignoring him, rather than saying something snide or starting an argument.

After all, that's what we seemed to do best. Throughout everything that had changed in the past three years, a few things stayed the same. And our mutual disdain for each other was certainly one of them. McGonagall, of course, looked down upon our verbal sparring, especially in front of the students. So we tried our best to keep our loathing of each other private. But sometimes we couldn't help ourselves. For example, when he intruded into my Advanced Arithmancy class earlier that week:

I had been in the middle of going over intermediate level problem with one of my students who seemed to be struggling a bit more than the rest when the door to my classroom suddenly burst open. Still not having entirely rewired my reflexes from the war, my first instinct was to grab for my wand, which I did; only to find myself armed and ready for the "harmless" ferret boy himself. I quickly lowered my wand. He seemed rather amused.

"Professor Malfoy, what ARE you doing in my classroom?" I questioned, not bothering to leave the scorn out of my voice.

He smirked broadly in my general direction, though not meeting my gaze. He gave an ironic wave to one of the students in the back of the room, who, in turn, waved back quite enthusiastically. I was on the verge of being more than a bit mortified by his actions and for a moment I wondered if he might've been under the Imperious curse, but I didn't let it show.

I cleared my throat and tried again, this time a bit less politely, "Hey, Malfoy!"

He started, then locked his eyes on to mine and drawled, "Oh, Professor Mud- uh, Granger. I didn't see you standing there under all of that hair."

With that remark he, of course, received an uproar of laughter from the students -- _my_ students. I glared at him, giving up on trying to hide the general feelings of contempt and distaste I held for him. What was it any of his business if it had ended up being more difficult growing my hair out than I would've ever imagined?

In a very even voice I questioned, "Was there something you needed, Professor?"

He gazed nonchalantly around the room before shrugging, "Oh, I was just looking for Peeves. He's been causing more trouble than usual lately and I figured it was time to put him in his place."

I stared at him incredulously for a moment, then caught myself and responded coolly, "Well, Professor, I'm quite sure I would've noticed if he were here."

He smirked, "Quite right. I'll be on my way." And with that he pivoted toward the door and had exited in a flourish of billowing of robes, leaving me stewing about everything that was him.

But back to my most recent encounter:

I could tell he was shocked that I had decided on ignoring him, rather than arguing. I should've known he wouldn't put up with such nonsense from me. After all, he was looking for a fight. He was always looking for a fight, and it was starting to wear me out.

He swiftly threw out his arm, somehow managing to find my wrist under all the material of my robes and latched on, hard.

"Ow! You-" I began, only to be cut off by his free hand covering my mouth, all while bodily forcing me up against the nearest wall.

"No, Granger," he hissed through his perfect teeth, "not this time. You are going to listen to what I have to say for one god damned time in your life."

There was nothing I could do but glare at him. He had my full attention and he knew it. I had known he would be bent out of shape about the invisibility cloak, but this? This was borderline insanity, really. And for once, I was actually kind of interested to hear what he had to say. It must've been awfully good for him to exert this much effort to get my undivided attention.

However, I never got to hear exactly what he wanted to say. To put it simply, Peeves had the uncanny ability to interrupt people at exactly the wrong moment. Or perhaps the right moment. I hadn't decided which of the two I had been caught in.

Malfoy had spun around to see what mischief Peeves thought he was getting into as Peeves began to sing, "The traitor and the Mudblood caught alone in the hall. Oh, the possibilities... who's Peevesies to call?" He cackled as he spun around in circles in front of us, repeating his droll little tune.

Despite the fact that Peeves had gotten hold of Malfoy's attention, he still hadn't let go of my wrist, which he still had pinned against the stone wall. I briefly contemplated asking him to let go, but I opted for staying silent, hoping he might forget I was there and inadvertently let me go.

I guess Peeves wouldn't have any of that though. He must've known me well enough to know my silence meant I was up to something. He looped through the air a few times before getting right up in Malfoy's face and blowing a raspberry before calling attention back to me, "Traitor, traitor, traitor... your captive is planning an escape. D'you think it'll have something to do with that invisibility cape?" And with that he zoomed off down the hall laughing manically, leaving a fair amount of destruction in his wake in the form of turned over portraits to the odd broken chandelier.

I winced as Malfoy somehow managed to tighten his grip on my wrist even further. He turned back to me, placing his other hand right beside the left side of my head, successfully capturing a good chunk of my hair as well.

"What's with the manhandling, hm?" I questioned, trying to sound more confidant than I felt.

He moved his face closer to mine, leaving mere inches between us. I had begun to wonder just what he was up to this time. I continued glaring at him and had just opened my mouth to ask him what his problem truly was when he hissed,

"Just shut up."

* * *

**A/N**: Oh my... I wonder what'll happen next? Next chapter I hope to bring in some of that mysterious red head. Okay, so I'm definitely going to bring in some stuff about him. It's already written and everything. ;)

And on another note, this is my longest chapter yet! Yay!

So until next time...

_Huge _thanks to my reviewers:

**screwtheperfectlife**: Why thank you. And yeah, it was flashbacks. This chapter's got some of that jazz too... I rely on the flashbacks to help explain the current storyline, even though I probably shouldn't.

**andrettamaiebodi**: Mystery redhead shall resurface ...and soon! Like before you can say alohamora ...well almost anyway. I'm glad you got the upload thing to work. Thanks for reading!

**Astriana Glaze**: Hey, thanks! Yeah, Fred knew he was lucky; too bad the whole war with Voldemort thing interrupted everything. Those evil forces will get you every time. ;) Erm... yeah. Malfoy is just almost beyond me, so I hope he doesn't become too out of character. That'd just be sad. I'll not comment on the D/Hr bit... I'm horrible. I know. ;) But I really do try to be good... in an angsty way... I'm not too sure how that works itself out.

**Review?**


	12. And So The Story Goes

**Disclaimer**: The complicated: The only Harry Potter related thing I own is the Gryffindor scarf I crocheted and wore for Halloween (dressed as Hermione. Yes, it's true). Well, that and all the books... and the movies... and the Ravenclaw scarf... and a random twig I pronounced as a wand. erm...I'm really quite normal, I promise. The simple: I don't own Harry Potter.

**A/N**; Okay party people, you better be reading this little note or else you won't understand what's going on. Well, maybe you will. You all seem like highly intelligent people, but just humor me, 'k? All right then. The Amnesiac (this is now his official title courtesy _Astrianna Glaze_) returns in this chapter, but I'm going to work his plotline in with the current one between Draco and Hermione. So, my division markers signify a transfer to (or ending of) the Amnesiac. Are we good? Good. Let's cross our fingers and hope for the best, eh?

* * *

_"Just shut up."  
_

And that is when Draco Malfoy, general scum of the earth, kissed me.

I know. I thought it was disgusting too. And not to mention completely out of the blue.

I pushed him away as hard as I could, and began furiously wiping the back of my sleeve across my mouth.

My world had suddenly become very, _very_ small. Exactly what had just happened here?

...Oh, that's right. Malfoy. Kissing me.

I'm sorry, my mind does not accept or grasp this. Advanced Arithmancy? Sure. Apparating without a wand? Any day of the week. This? Not so much.

I chanced a glance at him, he was now standing by the wall opposite to the one I was using for sole support. Strangely enough he looked as shocked and disgusted as I felt, not to mention incredibly...

Pale. (What, did you think I was going to say he looked good?)

I eyed him suspiciously and then started in on him:

"What the hell kind of game are you playing at, Malfoy!" I paused to wipe at my mouth again and then continued my tirade, "I mean, for God's sake! People just don't go around _kissing_ people they've openly despised for a decade! Not... I mean -- No. Just no."

I shook my finger at him. As if that would help.

o o o

My days are filled with uncertainty, exposing myself to a world that doesn't know me... and even worse yet I don't know it.

I feel sometime not so long ago I believed in magic. Maybe that time was when I was a child. Kids believe in magic, right? I'm asking because I don't know.

It was morning, the beginning of a brand new day. A new day full of possibilities I was completely blind to. Possibilities don't exist for those who are unable to even remember their name.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, light splaying across the hardwood floor through the paned window over the sink. As I sat, I willed myself to remember something... anything. Anything besides the one word that was forever running itself through my thoughts: "magic."

I was staying with a couple, Emeline and Dwight Creighton, now that I had been officially released by the hospital. They had been the ones who had found me in the first place, or so I'm told.

Emeline was slightly heavy-set and middle aged, with wavy blonde hair that fell just past her chin. Dwight, a slender bloke with thinning sandy brown hair who looked a great deal older than his wife but, in actuality, was a few years younger; his skin looked as if it were permanently tanned from the sun since he spent his days outside for work.

Emeline was cooking breakfast for us all when I decided to ask a question that had been building up inside of me for what seemed ages,

"Emeline, do you... erm, do you believe in... well, magic?"

She turned from the stove, smiled sweetly at me and answered as if she were talking to an eight year old, "Oh, aren't you just the most adorable thing?"

I knew then I wouldn't be able to take her reply seriously. I needed a factual answer. I needed proof if I was wrong or not. I needed to _know_.

I listened to her answer me anyway. She was still speaking fondly to me, "Dear, I haven't believed in that sort of thing for such a long time."

She turned back to frying the eggs.

I inwardly sighed and let my line of vision drop to the table top.

She asked me if I would like some orange juice while I waited.

I replied as politely as I could manage, "Oh, no. Thank you anyway."

She gave me a sympathetic look and questioned, "Still not having any luck with that head of yours?"

I fought the sudden urge to laugh. Of course I wasn't "having any luck," the only thing I couldn't understand was why. The doctors at the hospital said it could happen any day; something would trigger a memory buried in my subconscious and then the rest would simply follow. Only it had been over four months and not a single thing exuded any form of familiarity. The doctor had also found it odd I didn't remember things about "society" in general. Apparently most memory-loss patients seemed to retain that kind of information, but I'll also bet most memory-loss patients didn't have the word "magic" constantly pulling at their attention.

o o o

Malfoy looked at me incredulously. He raised a hand to his lips, and then quickly dropped his hand to his side. He sort of had the whole deer-in-the-headlights look going on. I found this to be completely unfair. After all, _he _was the one that had just made a sexual move on me. Not to mention it was an entirely _unwanted_ sexual move.

My gaze and thoughts changed from suspicious to apprehensive. I briefly hoped whatever it was that was wrong with him wasn't catching.

I cleared my throat, wondering if he was going to respond to me or just stand there like an idiot for another ten minutes.

After another moment or so I was becoming slightly irritated. Then it occurred to me I didn't have to be there.

Why was I still there?

I began slowly, "Uh, Malfoy? I don't know if you're having some sort of mental breakdown over there, but--"

He sunk slowly to the ground, resting his head on his knees. I chose to ignore this action and continued,

"But I certainly have better ways to spend my time than staring at you. Especially after you tried coming on to me."

He looked up at me, his eyes guarded and slightly hidden behind a fringe of his platinum blonde hair.

"Which, I do not think I even want an explanation for. Don't feel obligated to give it another thought. I--I just... Look, I just don't care. Okay?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. I guessed that meant he had decided to ignore me.

"Well, okay," I continued, rather feeling as if I were talking to the wall, "I'm going to go now. I'll... uh... see you later or something. Or not. You know, whatever."

And after my rather articulate speech I simply turned around and headed back to my chambers, any thought of dinner long since abandoned.

Once I reached my quarters, I passed directly through the sitting room into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed, letting out an irritated scream into my burgundy pillow. Feeling slightly better, I shifted so I could reach the drawer of my bedside table, pulling it open and pulling out that piece of parchment I'd read so many times. That's right, Fred's final letter to me.

Somehow I always expect it will say something different... It never does. Just like how the past isn't going to change either.

He had wanted me to continue on with my life. Was I truly doing so, or was I still running away from everything?

I sighed, placing the letter back into its home; after doing so I slowly rolled over on the bed, resigning myself to simply staring at the ceiling, psychoanalyzing Malfoy and his actions.

It was going to be a long night.

o o o

When I was still in the hospital one of my nurses, Anne, suggested I choose a name for myself.

Initially I thought the idea rather novel, but after pondering it for... oh, about five minutes, I decided I really didn't want the job of giving myself a name. I told her just as much too.

She had only smiled at me and replied, "Well, if that's how it's going to be, I'll just have to come up with a name for you myself."

To which I replied, "Feel free, dear Anne."

She stood at the foot of my hospital bed, as if she were sizing me up. Coming to a decision after a few moments, she stated, "Ryan."

And so they call me Ryan.

I don't have to hear anyone speak "my" name to know it feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. I just can't pinpoint why.

I would give anything if I were able to pinpoint why.

They call me Ryan.

...I'll never be Ryan.

o o o

_Meanwhile Draco Malfoy was still sitting up against the wall outside the Great Hall, which had earned him more than just a few curious looks from the students who'd managed to finish dinner early. No one dared bother him though, having learned only to approach the Professor if he said something first: _

I started, as if breaking out of some trance. What had I just done? And why the hell was I on the floor?

Then with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I remembered, only to instantly wish I'd been able to retain my momentary memory lapse.

I fought back the urge to gag. This was horrible.

What was I supposed to do now?

Before I'd had the upper hand with Granger. Before I'd been able to push her buttons, and revel in the knowledge that there was nothing she could do in retaliation. But now... now she had something on me. And this wasn't just any something; this was serious.

My mind began to race. Would she believe me if he told her I'd been under the Imperious curse? No, that was no good... there wasn't anyone in the school who would even bother to waste their time on me, let alone to make me do something so bizarre.

Why had I kissed her?

Perhaps because I was completely entranced with her?

Well, there _was _always that.

Merlin, would there be hell to pay tomorrow -- hell to pay tonight.

Life just never seemed to let up...

I hadn't been out on the grounds of Hogwarts the previous night with the intent of catching anyone out after hours.

I had ventured outside simply to gain some sort of peace of mind, to escape the castle with its infernal memories that sideswiped me every single time I let my guard down just the slightest bit. It was odd how I found myself slipping up so often especially since I had been raised to always be on guard, always be in control (or if I wasn't, to at least pretend I'd planned it that way).

Maybe this was what it was like to be old. But who was I kidding? I was only twenty years of age; idyllically I should have dozens of years left to live.

It was more probable that maintaining the façade that was my life was becoming something a bit too much to keep up when I couldn't devote all my time and efforts to constructing it.

Now I was busy with my Potions classes; planning lessons, correcting homework. It was all so simple. It was what it appeared to be. When was the last time anything in my life ever been so straightforward?

And it was times like those when my mind was simply elsewhere, I would unwittingly let the façade slip, and I was just myself.

And it scared the hell out of me.

I'd kept the front up for so long it had simply become easier to believe that that was who I was: a cold and unfeeling aristocratic pureblooded wizard who didn't have to explain himself to anyone, even himself. It had been the air I'd presented to the world, and they'd accepted it as reality. And it was now systematically crashing in around me.

I had been pondering precisely that as I slowly made my way past the Whomping Willow, with the intent of visiting the lake.

I had stopped a few feet away from the tree, simply staring out into the tangled forest just beyond it, attempting to clear my head of any coherent thought whatsoever. That is until something rather strange caught my attention. It was almost as if I had heard something --someone-- gasp.

I broke out of my reverie, eyes darting to an open space where I was almost positive I'd heard the noise come from. Well, there was certainly nothing there now, or was there?

My mind was left with only one name running through it: Granger.

Much like her name was still running through my thoughts. Only now it was for an entirely different reason; well, mostly anyway.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, that seemed to read out fairly decent. Incorporating amnesiacs can be tricky work. ;) Hope you enjoyed it. More Amnesiac to come in the next chapter.

**Reviewers**, have I mentioned lately just how happy those lovely little comments you leave mean to me! They really do make my day, and I thank you so, so much for leaving them!

**Astrianna Glaze**: I just realized I misspelled your s/n last time; how's that for gratitude, hm? My sincere apologies. Anyway... yes, angsty D/Hr... I've been known to do it in the past and it can get pretty ugly... in, you know, a totally wonderful way. I'm not committing either way on this fic so far though. I just won't:) Well, you pretty much covered your bases with your thoughts on him kissing her. But why did he _truly _do it? I think we should keep in mind that, as a general rule, it's never a good idea to trust a Malfoy. Or is it:) I hope you enjoyed the Amnesiac, I sure enjoyed writing his bits, if only for the angst factor. Thanks for the review!

**Ydnas5**: Thank you so much! Yes, it was my first cliffhanger and I rather enjoyed it! But, as you see, I didn't take forever to update, so hopefully you, as a reader, can find it in your heart to forgive me :) And what _is _Malfoy up to? He's such a sneaky little (well, not exactly little... but definitely something) pureblood. Yeah, that's the Amnesiac in all of his empty-headed glory. He's so cute. :)

**cutemara**: Hello new reviewer! Thanks for the review and the add to your favorites list!

**screwtheperfectlife**: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Review?**


	13. Move Along Like I Know You Do

**A/N**: Oh, just as I promised! A bit more on the Amnesiac! ...and, well, other, you know, insignificant stuff too ;) :) We'll begin with the amnesiac.

Chapter title graciously borrowed from the All-American Rejects track with the same name (I really don't know why their song titles keep popping up when uploading time arrives).

* * *

Emeline told me one day that oftentimes when someone is looking for something, all they have to do is stop looking for it in order to find it. I found this notion absurd, but honestly, what did I know? That's right. Not even my own name. Only that I found plugs to be oddly interesting, which Dwight told me wasn't exactly a normal thing to be so fascinated with. He wondered if I had once been an electrician; I highly doubted it. 

So as much as it killed me, I stopped constantly wracking my brain. I learned to just exist. I got a job working with Dwight. It was almost as if I became a son to them; a fiery redhead in a fair-haired family.

Almost.

Yet that's precisely how things continued until one night I woke with a start.

I woke because I had remembered something.

I had remembered Her.

I sat up in my bed, breathing heavily... the dream was still so real despite I had already woken from it.

I had been outside flying through the air on a broomstick, the wind had been blowing through my then longer hair. But that wasn't the weirdest part, there were at least three other people flying around as well and another half-dozen people lounging around on the ground and they all had hair the exact color of mine. There were two exceptions though: a boy with black, messy hair and a girl with long, frizzy light brown hair.

Despite the fact these redheaded people were so obviously the family I couldn't remember, something in my subconscious told me she was the one I should be paying attention to, the seemingly average, petite girl. There had to be something extraordinary about her though. She was a part of this world where people _flew _on _broomsticks_, people who were my _family_.

Suddenly the scenery had changed drastically. It was now just her and me in a dark room. She seemed to have aged several years from the time I had glanced down at her from the air. She was sitting at the end of a long antique looking table, reading a rather large book, seemingly illuminating the pages with a stick with a lighted end.

_Wand _echoed through my mind.

I was pacing beside said table, incessantly running my hands through my hair.

She was pointedly ignoring me, face set in a determined grimace, as her eyes moved back and forth across the page.

I finally flopped myself ungracefully into the chair beside hers.

She finally glanced up at me and questioned, "What is it! You've been pacing around like a madman for over ten minutes. You know I'm reading as fast as I can--"

I cut her off, "Hermione, I know. It's just that I'm not very good at waiting."

_Her name was Hermione. _

She gave me a small smile and lightly teased, "You know, patience is a virtue."

I mocked ignorance and questioned, "Vir-what?"

She pushed the book she was reading from her and rose from her chair, moving to the place where I was sitting. She brushed a lock of hair out my eyes before kissing me on the cheek.

I looked up into her brown eyes, seemingly having lost my voice for a moment.

I reached out, grabbing hold of her hands and pulled her closer to me, her forehead coming to rest on mine for a moment before her lips met mine in a soft kiss. It was almost as if the world had dropped away, leaving the two of us entirely to our own devices. The moment didn't last nearly long enough though, she brought her lips away from mine and returned her forehead back to mine.

I relished simply being in such close proximity with her, only breaking the silence after a good five minutes had passed, whispering, "There's gotta be a spell to make moments like this last forever."

She moved slightly away as she outright laughed at my comment and I soon found myself chuckling too.

But the moment grew serious once again when I caught her eyes boring into mine. She finally whispered back to me, "You're just too much. Can I keep you?" she paused to graze my jaw-line with the tips of her fingers, hand finally coming to rest on my shoulder before finishing her question, "Forever?"

Neither of us laughed that time though.

I rose from my chair and quickly pulled her into an embrace, burying my face into the top of her head...

And that was my dream -- my _memory_.

Now fully awake I knew --_I remembered_-- there had been something looming over us, something huge. We both had known it would be not only life altering but world altering. We had a mission, a purpose; and that came well before any personal feelings we wanted to pursue.

But I had no idea what that had been. All I knew was her. And that was enough for now and quite possibly enough for forever.

Suddenly I recalled a dream I'd had months ago, _she _had been the girl I was picking up in the rainy parking lot. _She _was the one I was never supposed to forget; and yet, I had.

Now I had remembered her. All I had to do now was find her.

Somehow.

o o o

For the next week or so I avoided Malfoy like the plague. I can only assume he'd taken to doing the same with me as well. It was just that he was really not someone I was equipped to deal with now -- or ever. He could still unnerve me seemingly without any effort on his part. And if there was one thing I liked less than most anything else in the world, it was feeling unnerved.

Despite this, part of me wanted to seek him out and give him a piece of my mind. Whenever I considered doing so, however, was precisely when I'd remind myself that doing so would be quite foolish; especially since I couldn't be sure how I'd react to being in his presence since... _it_ happened.

I really couldn't figure out why he'd done it; I'd spent hours trying to figure him out, only to feel even more confused about everything that was him. He was impossible to read, and I was sure he liked, wanted, and maybe even needed to be that way.

I wasn't stupid though. I knew I wouldn't be able to evade him forever. But avoiding him for _awhile_ was working pretty well, as far as I was concerned.

Apparently McGonagall had a different opinion concerning our situation though.

That isn't to say she knew what had happened that night outside the dining hall. As near as I could tell, no one did... especially Malfoy and myself. Regardless, there she was one afternoon after I had excused my fifth year students, walking down the aisle of my classroom, stating she needed to speak with me.

I rose from my sitting position, an expectant look spreading across my face rather quickly.

She reached my desk and conjured a chair for herself, sitting in it and motioning for me to sit as well.

She sighed slightly and began, "Well, Hermione, I suppose you know why I'm here?"

I, however, truly had no clue, "No, Headmistress...?"

My response didn't seem to please her too much, and she spoke almost as if she were talking to herself, "I don't know what I was thinking. You two are still obviously such children. To think I honestly believed you'd be able to teach _other _children--"

I opened my mouth to protest, even though I had no idea why she was so upset.

She cast me a dispassionate look, "You really don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

I slowly shook my head, still trying to figure out what she was on about.

"It's you and Draco."

Well, now she certainly had all my attention. ...What did she know?

She looked at me shrewdly, having seen my face change at the mention of his name. She continued, "Just as I thought. I really had expected better from you, Hermione."

I outwardly flinched. After all, I had expected better from myself as well; not that any of what had happened was my fault, though.

Resolvedly she spoke, "Well, that's that then."

Wait. _What?_

"You two are just going to have to settle whatever happened," she reasoned, "I can't have my professors refusing to speak to each other."

I found this unfair. She had been upset when we had been basically feuding with each other as well. But I didn't voice that particular opinion, it would only have proven her right about the two of us still being nearly children ourselves, despite the things we had lived through.

Clearing my throat, I questioned, "What is it you'd have me do?"

A ghost of a smile flashed across her face as she replied, "I had hoped you would ask."

Uh oh. This wasn't going to be something I wanted to do.

She continued, "Since the two of your are so intent on acting the age of your students, I thought it would only be appropriate to get you two into detention."

All right, so that wasn't exactly what I had anticipated.

"Not that you two, of course, will be a part of the detention; you'll both be holding it in Professor Malfoy's classroom this Thursday."

I barely caught myself from grimacing at the prospect: Malfoy, me, and an odd half dozen or so of Hogwarts' little delinquents. Oh, superb.

But she wasn't done yet, "And you will continue to reside over the detention sessions every Thursday until you two work out whatever it is that's going on between the two of you."

I felt severely deflated. Thursday was tomorrow. I had to face Malfoy _tomorrow_. And most likely every Thursday for the rest of the school year.

Minerva must've realized I wasn't about to respond to her, "Very well then, Hermione. I'll be popping in to detention tomorrow just to check up on the two of you. I expect you not only to resolve this problem, but also to be civil, respectable professors in the process.

If that's what she honestly expected I knew she had to be seriously delusional about Malfoy. Even more so than I had originally thought.

Growing impatient, she questioned, "Hermione? Is all of this clear?"

I couldn't hide the resentment in my voice when I said, "Crystal."

"Very good. Now, remember, tomorrow in Draco's classroom."

And with that final note she exited rather quickly from my classroom.

o o o

Predictably, the rest of the day passed too quickly, as did Thursday and soon it was time for me to venture down to meet my fate at the hands of Malfoy.

Even though I didn't have much experience with detention, I knew already I despised it. Maybe that wasn't the attitude to go into the situation with, but I really couldn't help it at that point. I was angry. This was all his fault.

When I arrived at his door, I realized I was at least twenty minutes early. I'd forgotten I always set my watch fast. I cursed my desire to be punctual for the first time in my life.

I was just about to turn away and find something to occupy myself for those twenty minutes when I heard a voice calling from inside the room.

"You might as well come in, you know."

I weighed my options: run away and choose to forget McGonagall's request, run away and return in twenty minutes, or go inside the classroom and endure twenty extra minutes with the person I loathed most, who just might be developing a habit of making random sexual moves on me.

Merlin, this was going to be a tough one. Or, you know, _not_.

I turned to leave, not having decided if I would, in fact, return in a few moments or not. However, I didn't make it very far since an unusually strong _Stupefy!_ hit me in the back.

That bastard Malfoy always did like to get people just when they turned their backs to him.

* * *

**A/N**: Thus ends the self-contemplative Amnesiac. Next time he graces us with his presence he'll be in conversation with someone. Ooh, intrigue! ;)

And what is this? Hermione stupefied and all alone with Malfoy? Huh. Wonder how _that'll _work out. ;)

To the reviewers:

screwtheperfectlife: Um, I'm assuming you meant the mysterious red-head, now being labeled as the Amnesiac? Well, I fully plan to reveal just that to you and the rest of my fabulous readers in good time! Thanks for reviewing!

Astrianna Glaze: Yeah, blondie can be a tricky guy. You gotta watch out for him. Hopefully Ms. Hermione realizes that. -- I'm glad you like my writing style and even gladder (blah, I don't know if that's a word) yet you are one of the marvelous people who take the time to review!

MysticChibi: Hello new reviewer! Alas, I have become predictable! Yeah, he did have to kiss her though, tricky little ferret. :) As far as getting your hopes up... jeez, I can't really comment on that without sort of giving away the end. So, I'll be frustrating and not really say anything at all. ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**Review?**

And now for something new: For those of you who wish to do so, **Alternative Review Question:** Any of you into Harry & The Potters? I've just recently gotten into their music. I enjoy them a whole lot. Their music just fills me with glee:)


	14. Our World Was Stained, Awake, & Drowned

_He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me. Though, I did hope he wasn't suggesting the Imperious curse with his talk of his being "in control of" me. _

_And what _was _the deal with him stupefying me for this conversation? He could be such an incompetent weakling._

While I was still pondering all of that he rather unexpectedly lifted the stupefy curse from me. I rather gracefully lost my balance and landed on the concrete floor with an exceptionally resounding _thud_.

After gaining some sense of composure, despite the fact I was still on the floor, I questioned, "And just what did you mean by you being 'in control of me,' Malfoy?"

He gave a ghost of a smile and softly said, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Have I mentioned I find him entirely infuriating?

He continued looking down his long nose at me and spoke through thin lips, "Well, it was good we had this chat. You'd best be picking yourself up now, the students are about to arrive."

I glared incredulously at him and at that moment I would've rather spent the rest of my life living on that very floor rather than do what he had told me to.

He impatiently sighed, "Granger, you're being preposterous--"

I cut him off, "_I'm _being preposterous? Do you see me wandering around the castle randomly stupefying those I wish to have a word with? Do you see me popping into your classroom for absolutely absurd reasons? No--"

He loudly cleared throat as he made his way toward me and pulling me up to a standing position.

"Just stop messing with me, Granger."

Oh, yes, because I had been the one 'messing' with him. I am so sure.

I would've continued my argument, making a point to include my opinion that he was, in fact, completely mental, but the students, just as he had predicted, had begun to show up and file into his classroom.

Slightly deflated for the time being, I followed Malfoy into the room, preparing myself for detention.

_Detention_. There really couldn't be a better word to describe time spent with Malfoy: imprisonment, confinement, incarceration. Yes, those all sounded terribly accurate.

Though it wouldn't be a complete waste of time if I managed to murder him during the period. Perhaps it would be a better idea to simply brainstorm for the time being. I spent my time making a list:

Top 5 Ways to Rid My Life of Malfoy (and Not Get Caught):

1. Make good use of the room of requirement: "I need someplace to hide Malfoy's body where it will never, ever be found."

2. Vanishing Cabinet, fourth floor. Potentially problematic getting him to the fourth floor, though.

3. Two words: Giant Squid.

4. Muggle mental asylum.

5. Get Moaning Myrtle on his case again. He won't rest easy again until he's left the castle.

All right, so my list was slightly lacking in originality and viability, but it made me feel better at the time.

o o o

_Draco - One Week Later_

I was just going about my business, having gotten done with the errand McGonagall had sent me on -- into muggle London, no less -- and I now was trying desperately to get to an apparation point so I could make my way back to the familiar wizarding world.

I was choosing to ignore the fact I'd asked McGonagall for a task that would require me to leave Hogwarts, if only for a short time. I had to put some space between myself and Granger. I know the woman didn't come from an exactly magical background, but there was something distinctly veela about her. Or maybe it was just me.

Anyway, I guess old habits die hard, because I still was highly uncomfortable being all alone in a world filled with non-magical people. While rushing down a street toward a nondescript telephone booth (someone's idea of a clever joke for an apparation point) I caught a glimpse of red hair which I hadn't seen the likes of since the Weasleys attended Hogwarts. Yeah, I know I had hated them, but they _had _always been impossible to miss, which is why I stopped dead in my tracks to get a better look at the man with the red hair.

I don't know what I had been expecting; I suppose anything other than the person I caught eyes with. It threw me off so much I couldn't help myself, exclaiming, "Holy shit you're... You're supposed to be dead!"

His mouth dropped open slightly as he too stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and questioned, "Wait, you know me?"

There was no denying it was him. I, however, was now too stunned to speak and all I could do was lamely nod my head, my eyes searching over him for some flaw that would prove he wasn't who I thought he was. I mean, it was impossible, right? All of the Weasleys were long since gone.

My doubts were shattered mere moments later when he finally broke the silence between the two of us, speaking up so I could hear him over the flood of people moving around us,

"Do you know a girl named Hermione?"

No longer exactly shocked, I managed a fairly decent sneer (What? It's a defense mechanism.) as I inquired, "...What exactly are you playing at, Weasley?"

His eyes seemed to widen just a bit more and rather looked as if he were storing a piece of information away for later use.

Moving closer to me he barely whispered in an awed tone, "So that's my name then?"

I shot him my best reproving look. What kind of joke was this? And why didn't Granger know the git was alive?

He registered my glance and quickly pleaded, "No, please. You don't seem to understand..."

Oh, this was just too much and I was becoming steadily more annoyed and bored with this conversation. I replied sharply, "What makes you think I'd lower myself to do anything for you?"

He furrowed his eyebrows in such a way that only conveyed confusion and innocently asked, "What? Did I do something to offend you?"

I bit back a cold laugh, "...recall that one time in fifth year...?"

He almost looked fed up with me as he explained, "But that's the thing, I don't." He paused as if in thought and tried again, "...So I went to school with you? Was it in London?"

I shot him an incredulous look, finally beginning to believe him, "You really don't remember, do you?"

He merely offered me an exasperated look, as if I were the slow kid in the class and should've caught on by now.

I continued my questioning, "Nothing at all? About a dozen siblings? Played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

He slowly shook his head and asked in an astonished tone, "Could you tell me about those things? My family? Kwidditch?"

I quickly scoffed, "Red, you've got the wrong man. I wasn't exactly 'one of the gang'."

Having said that, I turned to leave, eager to get myself out of the muggle hellhole as soon as possible.

He reached out and caught my sleeve, desperation clearly apparent in his eyes, "Please, you're the only one who can help me."

I glowered down at his hand which was still holding onto a large amount of my muggle coat and questioned, "What about Granger?"

His hand dropped away as yet another confused look overtook his features as he questioned, "Who?"

Rather frustrated I found myself shouting, "Oh for fuck's sake. _Hermione_!"

To say the least, he was really beginning to unnerve me.

He, however, seemed completely oblivious to my feelings toward him and just continued on with his endless stream of questions, now asking, "So you _do _know her?"

I tried my best to look bored with this entire situation, it wasn't too hard considering I really had had just about enough of this bullshit. Though I found myself answering him anyway,

"...Unfortunately"

The features on his face conveyed nothing but pure hope and he, once again, threw another question in my direction:

"Could you tell me where she is then?"

I openly sneered as I snapped back, "There's no way you'd be able to see her."

And as amusing as it had become watching the Weasel's facial expression change with every single thing I said, it was getting old real fast. He was by no means done wearing his heart on his sleeve though, and worriedly continued his interrogation, barely managing to whisper,

"Why? ...She isn't... She's okay, isn't she?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking I should've taken the chance to escape when I had it, because clearly there was something about him that made me think now that I should stick around and answer his inane questions.

I didn't have to be nice about it though,

"She's _downright peachy_. That doesn't change the fact she's highly unavailable."

More questions: "Why?"

I begrudgingly answered this one as well, "She's teaching at Hogwarts."

Not missing a beat, he replied, "I don't know what that is."

I sighed disgustedly, "**Hogwarts**... School of _Witchcraft _and _Wizardry_? Ring any kind of bell in that moronic head of yours?"

His eyes seemed to light up for just a moment and I'm almost positive I saw him mouth the word "magic." However, the moment passed just as quickly as it had happened.

He gave me a calculating glance before poising his next question, "What's your name?"

I returned the glance and answered, "Draco Malfoy."

He mused out loud, "Draco... Draco..." And then looked up as if he had been struck by some thought, "Did you used to have a pet ferret or something? Or... were _you _a _ferret_? -- No, that doesn't make any sense..."

Well, wasn't this just an excellent waste of my valuable time? I was entirely sick of this little game, whatever the hell it was he was playing.

I answered quickly, "Yes, it was really my finest moment. Thank you for bringing it up again. If you don't mind, I need to be on my way."

I moved to turn around which seemed to rather alarm the Weasel and he exclaimed, "No, Malfoy, you have to wait!"

I cast a glance back at him over my shoulder and questioned, "Weasley, what do you think I can do for you? What makes you think I even want to do anything for you? I don't owe you anything."

The desperate look was back again, "Please, you have to help me..."

The only thing on my mind had been getting the hell out of there before he got a chance to say anything more, but I decided on throwing him some sort of solace, "Listen, if you can't remember what happened in the past, I say more power to you. Hundreds of wizards would give anything to forget all of it."

The next time I began to move away he didn't bother trying to stop me.

It was in that moment I knew I had to make some sort of move, or lose any chance I had of getting precisely what I wanted.

**A/N**: Well there you have it, my next installment. And during finals, no less! Thanks to all those who read!

To my reviewers:

**Astrianna Glaze**: I do plan on keeping the identity secret. Well, at least I hope it's sort of unknown. ) Thanks for taking the time to review, it means a lot to me!

**screwtheperfectlife**: I'm sorry if I've gone and confused you! Thank you for reviewing regardlessly!

To the rest of you... **Review?**


	15. Believe In What You Want

**A/N**: Title unceremoniously ripped off from the Jimmy Eat World track with the same name.

* * *

I really couldn't believe it; for once my luck seemed to be heading in a positive direction. It was Thursday once again, a day I figured I would end up dreading for the rest of the year because it meant detention with Mr. Congeniality himself, Draco Malfoy. However, I received absolutely fabulous news when I trudged into the teachers' lounge sometime just after six in the morning: Malfoy wouldn't be able to make it that night. It seemed he had to go on an urgent errand for McGonagall into muggle London.

I'll admit it, the thought of him alone in muggle London made me laugh. He wasn't exactly the type of person who blended in with the crowd. As I remember from my days as a student, he usually caught the attention of the opposite sex quite frequently.

I secretly hoped the muggles would eat him alive. Or, at the very least, keep him as some sort of sex slave. Not that I thought of him in that way. Because I don't. I try my best not to think of him at all, actually. But the longer they could keep him otherwise indisposed, the better for me.

I practically floated through my entire day. I didn't have to watch my back, I didn't have to worry about avoiding anyone at all. I was positively liberated. _This _was how Hogwarts was supposed to be. I didn't even mind babysitting the delinquents during detention.

I suppose it would've been prudent to inquire as to when he would once again be gracing us with his presence, but I hadn't thought to ask at the time, I had been entirely too elated. Somehow I had imagined him being gone for over a week, not just a day. That, as I would soon learn, was entirely wishful thinking on my part.

Later that night I was lounging on my bed, doing some light reading into a new breakthrough in Advanced Arithmancy when I heard a knock on the door of my quarters.

I wondered at who it could possibly be as I slowly dragged myself off my bed. I pulled my pastel yellow robe over the t-shirt and pajama pants I was wearing, just getting the sash tied as I reached for the doorknob. I opened it to see Malfoy, looking rather stricken, standing on the other side.

I blurted out the first thing that popped into my mind, "How did you even know where my quarters were?"

Wordlessly he brought his hand up to hold my chin as he peered into my eyes.

Demandingly he questioned, "Are you happy, Granger?"

I glared at him, who did he think he was, bothering me, anyway? "Oh, yeah, Malfoy. Absolutely bloody spiffing. Especially since you're here now."

He dropped his hand away, but didn't drop his cold grey eyes. He blinked and continued to scan my face. "No, truthfully."

I shot him an incredulous look before asking, "Are you sure you're quite all right? I swear, you get odder and odder every single time I have the misfortune of speaking with you."

"Fine," he huffed, "don't answer me."

I raised an eyebrow and sneered, "I wasn't planning on it. Thanks for your permission though."

Merlin, I can't believe I _sneered_. I really had been spending too much time in his presence.

I sighed, placing my hands on my hips, and gave in, "Okay, what do you really want?"

He seamlessly replied, "You."

Despite the fact I wasn't eating or drinking anything I found myself coughing as if choking. It took me a moment to recover from that before I was able to respond incredulously, "Excuse me?"

He dismissively continued, "Get off it, Granger. You can't tell me you don't feel it too."

Rather shocked I replied, "The only thing I feel is the draft from the hallway."

Apparently he took that as an invitation to come in.

Hindsight would later suggest that was the moment in time where I was supposed to make some sort of move to rid my quatrters of its newest infestation of ferret. However, at the time, I was still reeling at his pronouncement of ...desire(?) for me, and having an internal debate as to whether he had said it simply to get a rise out of me. So instead of telling him precisely where to go, I lamely moved back from the door, letting the git into my chambers. He practically glided across the hardwood flooring, wasting no time in making himself comfortable on the burgundy couch at the corner of the sitting room.

I suddenly felt very out of place in my own living space. That's the kind of presence he has, he can enter a room and seemingly take command of everyone in it; that's the only way I can think of to explain it.

He craned his neck to glance at the doorway where I was still standing. He politely inquired, "Granger, won't you have a seat?"

And I found myself thinking, "_Yes, sitting seems like a very good idea._" And the next thing I knew I was sitting on the very same couch with him and was much too close to him for my own personal comfort.

What was wrong with me? I needed to snap out of whatever he was doing to me. I mean, he had to be doing something to sway my attitude towards him, right?

I moved as far away from him as I could on the couch, resolutely cleared my throat and began, "Listen, Malfoy. I don't know why you're here, nor do I care to know--"

He looked intrigued, and leaned forward, lessening the already entirely too small distance between us, "You don't wish to know why I've come to visit you at this hour?"

Annoyed, I responded, "Clearly that's what I just said. So please leave."

He sat up straight once again and shrugged, looking fairly happy for someone who had basically just been told to get the hell out and said, "Well, all right then. If you're sure you're not the least bit curious..."

I rolled my eyes, "Curiosity killed the cat, you should know that. And I, for one, am not a cat. Nor will I play mouse to this twisted game of cat-and-mouse you seem to be trying to play with me."

I threw a pointed glare in his direction. He simply stared back looking entirely unfazed.

I pursed my lips, "So, you were leaving then?"

He blinked, "Oh, I apologize. I got caught up with the image you brought forth in my mind when you said 'play'."

I quickly rose from the couch and huffed, "Ugh! You're impossible to be civil to. You know that, right?"

He scoffed, "Come off it, you know it's a part of my charm. And, _moreover_, you know you like it."

Not about to be outdone, I proclaimed, "You're entirely mistaken, I don't think I'd be able to list even one thing about you that I like."

He smirked, "Oh yeah? Well, while you might not be able to verbalize what you like about me, I have the distinct feeling you would be able to put those feelings of yours into actions. You didn't exactly pull away from me outside the Great Hall that morning, you know."

I quickly backed away from him, slightly shaken by what he had just implied, "Oh no you don't. You are going to stay away from me. I'm not kidding, Malfoy."

There was a distinct glimmer in his eye when he replied, "I'm not scared of you, Granger, or anything you're capable of doing to me. Actually, I'd rather look forward to you doing things to me... with me..."

I could feel my heart racing in my chest. I needed to get away from him, and fast. I took in an uneven breath and questioned, "What's with the sexual innuendo, hm? What happened to me being a filthy mudblood who's not to be touched under any circumstances? Do you remember those days? I'd rather like a return to them."

He rose from the couch and began making his way over to me, "Well, now, you of all people should understand we can't always have what we want."

I resumed backing away from him, almost entirely unaware of my surroundings. Movement halted rather quickly, however, as I ran right into an armchair and found myself sitting in it.

Within seconds he was looming over me and I had to tilt my head to look up at his now shadowed face.

He dropped rather abruptly to his knees, coming to eye level with me. He reached out once again, this time to brush a lock of hair out of my eyes. I flinched away from his touch, utterly afraid of what would happen if I allowed him to continue touch me. This couldn't continue.

But somehow it did.

All of my senses seemingly collided: lips brushing against mine, the scent of sandalwood engulfing me, the world going irrevocably black, soft hair brushing across my forehead, blood rushing in my ears, long fingers lacing themselves in my hair, the taste of traces of pumpkin juice, incoherent whispers shattering the silence, a tongue coaxing my mouth open, a warm welcome home... and finally soft hands pulling my mouth from his.

His face was full of some unnamable emotion. Nowhere did I see any hint of triumph, however.

His hands found mine and he softly whispered, "What's it going to take to get you to admit that you aren't okay -- that you _haven't been_ okay ever since sixth year ended?"

Pulling my hands out from underneath his, I responded sounding much more unaffected than I felt, "I could ask the same of you."

The truth was I didn't know what it would take. I had mostly given up on the aspiration of being "okay," instead opting for the more easily attainable "alive." As much as I tried to forget it, I was, in fact, hopelessly broken. And I wasn't sure if I could ever be repaired, or if I even wanted to be repaired, for that matter.

He laughed quietly under his breath, lightly taunting me, "No, Hermione. That's not how this "game" works. I asked you first."

I scoffed, "I never took you for one that would be a stickler for rules," and as an afterthought, I added, "and don't call me that."

His hands came to rest on my thighs and responded, "I am when they're the ones I've made up myself." He shrugged and then inquired, "Don't call you what, love?"

I swallowed hard and replied shakily, "Don't call me Hermione--"

I broke off in mid-sentence, completely unable to continue forming any kind of coherent though now that his hands were inching further and further up my thighs.

I was, in short, quite tired of dealing with him, and even more tired of his insistence on constantly touching me. Not to mention completely exhausted from trying to fight not only him but my feelings toward him.

So, in what I hoped was a firm voice, I stated, "You need to get your hands off of me. And you need to get out. Now."

Surprisingly, he readily obliged, removing his hands and letting them hang at his sides and whispered, "You know, Hermione, I think we both could find a rather large benefit in each other. I trust you'll seek me out when you've come to your senses about it."

He drew close to my face once again and softly grazed his lips across mine again before rising to his feet.

He backed slowly away from me, moving toward the door, "I'll be seeing you," he declared, "sooner or later. It'd be in your best interests if you made it sooner rather than later, though."

I fought back the urge to call out to him with every bit of strength I had left in me. And let me tell you something, there truly wasn't all that much left in the old reserves.

Could it be possible? Was I lusting after Draco Malfoy?

* * *

**A/N**: Oh my, what have I done now? And who does Malfoy think he is, going after the Amnesiac's girl? What a bastard. And just what is our beloved heroine thinking? Oh, readers, I'm enjoying this all too much. Don't worry though, I know what I'm doing :)

Make a girl happy and **review**?

To my wonderful reviewers:

**screwtheperfectlife**: Draco is a git. A really, really good looking one... but unfortunatelystill a git. Maybe this chapter gives a bit more insight as to why he turned his back on the dear Amnesiac. However, I won't be answering you as far as your inquiry about the identity of the Amnesiac. All we know is he's seemingly a Weasley. Well, okay... he _is _a Weasley. :) -- Thanks for reviewing!

**Astrianna Glaze**: Hello! What'd you think of my installment? Oh, Draco... I don't know if you'll still be thinking "Poor Draco" any longer, though. Just what is he playing at anyway:) Thanks for taking the time to review!


	16. It's Just A Matter Of Time

**Disclaimer**: Meh. I don't own it. Okay? Get off my case.

**A/N**: I hope this chapter doesn't end up too confusing... to avoid it becoming such, here's the rundown of characters we get insights to: First, Draco -- Second, Amnesiac -- Third, Hermione who's in present tense and then has a few memories we delve into. Happy reading!

* * *

"Well," Draco thought haughtily to himself, "that couldn't have gone better."

He was back inside his own personal chambers. They looked just as one might imagine them to, dark green covering every piece of furniture that was situated _just-so_ throughout the wide expanse of the room. There was little light illuminating anything. Dusty books lined shelves, trinkets lay idly everywhere, as if they'd not been given a second thought since moving day. And it was almost painfully cold.

Just like he was -- how he needed to be.

He knew he couldn't let himself slip up like he had outside the Great Hall again. And that's why he had constructed a plan he had just set into motion.

As he flopped down on the nearest oversized couch, he laughed out loud, recalling the expression on Granger's face:

She had been thoroughly annoyed when she put her hands on her hips and begrudgingly asked, _"Okay, what do you really want?"_

There. That was his cue_: "You." _

It's not important he didn't finish the rest of his thought. Though, if he had, it would've been something along the lines of: 'You dead.' or 'You unhappy for the rest of your miserable life.' Well, at least that's what it should've been.

(_But it wasn't quite that simple. Not anymore. She would be his proof to the world that he could be as cold and as unfeeling as he was raised to be. It would just take some work to get to that point._)

And then there had been her pricelessly choking on his words. Simply hilarious.

What he had said next was a complete adlib,_ "Get off it, Granger. You can't tell me you don't feel it too."_

But she bought it. And why not? It was blatantly clear he was not only an expert at Potions, but might've very well been able to make it in the acting business. He'd had enough practice as a child anyhow. It was good it was being of some use to him.

Because there was nothing he liked being more than productive. And tonight had been nothing if not productive.

It wasn't that he wanted the dirty mudblood for himself. Well, okay. So maybe it partially was. But not because of some stupid reason like he was _in love _with her or anything. She was something to be won. She represented everything Potter and Weasley had held dear, even though neither of them had ever truly had her. And in the end, she would come to represent his overcoming of himself. She _would _be his. He would see to it. And to hell with anyone who tried to stop him, like that blood-traitor prat from her past. That one would do well to just stay gone. And he just might do whatever it took to make sure he stayed that way.

What about once he had her? Well, he hadn't thought it through quite that far. He certainly wouldn't keep her. No, he just needed to prove to himself he was still capable of getting whatever it was that he wanted.

Yes, there always was all that garbage about how time could change people, but it certainly hadn't changed him. Well, not much, anyway. And certainly not enough to add up to anything. The world would soon understand this, left only to wonder why they hadn't realized it sooner.

He was going to do his father proud.

o o o

I watched that man, _Draco Malfoy_, walk away.

I don't know how long I stood there on that sidewalk with all the nameless people walking past me, it was as if they weren't there at all; my tousled red hair, sweeping across my forehead with every new gust of wind.

Hermione was not just some figment of my imagination. She was a part of my past and was still alive this very day. Granted, I had absolutely no clue where she was, but was I really going to let such a small detail deter me? Certainly not. Besides, I had names: Weasley, Granger, Malfoy, Hogwarts... _a school of magic_, Quidditch, Gryffindor.

Honestly, how hard could it be to find information on any of those things? I'd just have a go on Emeline's computer.

Things had to be looking up.

o o o

After Malfoy left, I sat, completely stunned, in my chair. I'm not sure I would've been able to move if I had wanted to.

Then a wave of relief washed over me as I thought, '_Thank Merlin he went away_.'

Something else inside of me whispered, _'But he'll be back. You _know _he'll be back._'

No, he couldn't come back. I didn't want anything to do with him.

I didn't.

And I certainly couldn't simply sit around while he pranced around the castle acting like he owned it. At the very least, I needed to come up with, yet another, game plan to elude him. Or better yet, beat him at his own game. Somehow.

Yes, I know hiding wasn't very Gryffindor of me, but a lot of the things I had been doing lately weren't either.

I finally found the strength to rise from my chair, taking special care not to dwell on the way my face still sort of tingled where he had brushed his hand across it.

No. I had to get my mind off of him. Maybe the best route to take would be to ignore him?

Merlin, I wish I had someone to discuss things with.

I once would've gone directly to Ginny, and she would've had an excellent idea as to what I should do.

But you see, she's become yet another one of my friends who I'm forced to refer to in the past tense.

She had been my best female friend. After all, every girl needs another girl to confide in, no matter how wonderful her male mates are. It's true. Who else would I've spent hours discussing Victor with after the Yule Ball? Who would I have gone to, in a complete hysterical mess, after putting the canary hex on Ron, after finding him snogging Lavender in that empty classroom? ...And I would've loved to seen her expression if I had ever gotten the chance to tell her about Ron and me.

Ron and me.

How long had it been since I'd thought of Ron? A picture of him flashed in my mind, the one I always see when I think of him. It's him just before sixth year, still young, but not much older than he would ever grow to be. He's wearing the sweater his mum knitted for Christmas fourth year, it's slightly too small, but for some reason it's always been his favorite. He's wearing a muggle white button-up shirt underneath it, and while it was obviously meant to balance out the ill-fitting sweater, it pronounces it more. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his brown corduroy trousers, which, oddly enough, actually fit well. They might've been the first pair of pants he owned in ages that fit that well (hand-me-downs were one of his least favorite things, especially since Fred, George and Percy were all a great deal shorter than he was). His brilliant red hair was on the long side and windswept, having just come in from out-of-doors, where he had been practicing Quidditch with Harry. He was leaning up against a wall at the Burrow, listening to me as I ranted on about something or another. If I had to guess, I'd venture I had been upset with him about something or another. But he just had stood there, taking everything I said in -- or, perhaps he was simply ignoring me -- staring at me through blue eyes. He's smiling, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

The reason that image of Ron stuck with me was because in that very moment, I had realized something: I was falling for him -- the dopey redhead, best known as being Harry Potter's sidekick. But he was more than that, he had _always _been so much more than that.

We had buried Ron in that sweater. I think that might be another reason that particular image of him sticks with me. The stark contrast between him just before sixth year, alive and utterly vibrant... and how he'd looked the day we laid him in his final resting place. Nothing about the sweater had changed, but it hadn't looked the same on him that day as it once had. And at the time, I had felt like _nothing _would ever look the same.

And for the most part, it hadn't yet. I had wondered, for a short time, if the world was capable of returning to what it had once been. I believed if anyone could bring about a return, it was the infallible Fred Weasley. Well, all right, he had never been infallible, perhaps dependable. No, that was no good either. I don't know what there had been about him that made me hold hope for the future, but I had. Perhaps it was my own naivety.

This was why I tried not to think of him -- of them -- it was too hard.

Another image flashed in my head: that of Ron's headstone. _Here lies Ronald Bilius Weasley, Loved Son, Loyal Brother, Courageous Friend_. The scene began to play in my mind:

I was standing next to Molly during the service, paying attention only to the brisk wind sweeping my hair about.

I couldn't look down. I couldn't look down.

None of this was real. It couldn't be.

I mean, yes, others had died in the war. Noble, brave wizards and witches alike. But not Ron. Never Ron. Still not Ron.

I had been reminded, at the time, of a book I'd once read as a child. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. For reasons I couldn't remember then, in the story, the people of the town believed Tom to be dead, and were in the middle of his funeral when he fell through the ceiling, perfectly fine and quite healthy. Perhaps that was what would happen with Ron? Would he fall from the sky at any given moment, only to sweep me up in his arms and proclaim to all our friends and family that we were in love and going to be married?

I looked up hopefully toward the sky. It was completely overcast and gray. There was no one falling from its clouds. Nor, I realized with a shock, would there be.

And it was in that exact moment when I, Hermione Granger, had fallen apart for the first time since I had watched Ron die. I suppose most had wondered what had taken me so long. Looking back, even I wonder what had taken me so long.

Harry, being the utter hero he always was, had been at my side in mere seconds, wrapping his arms around me as I buried my face in the front of his suit (something I had, only just earlier that morning, tried to convince him not to wear, since it was highly unorthodox for a wizarding burial).

There were no words exchanged between the two of us. After all, what was there left to say? We both knew this war was slowly, slowly tearing each and every one of us apart. Yet that is why we all continued on: to finish it as quickly and painlessly as possible. So far we weren't having much luck, to say the least. But we would continue on, almost with a renewed vigor, as soon as this ceremony concluded.

We had to. If not for ourselves, for Ron's lost life. It wasn't revenge, though. It was fighting for what was right and good in this world.

So what if it all turned virtuous people into murderers? So what if it shredded everyone's hopes of a happily ever after? It was now up to the next generation, yet to come, to be honorable and be able to live the life that had once been within our grasp.

Yes, we would fight for them. We were altogether worn out simply fighting for ourselves.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, there's my installment. I originally wanted it to be longer, but do you think I can manage to spit out more than 2000 words at a time? I'll try harder next time, I really will. But in the meantime, I shall send out thanks to my reviewers!

screwtheperfectlife: Your review made me smile. Yes, I think I would lust after Draco as well. Our Hermione is smart though, and, as you read, is onto whatever it is that Malfoy's up to. She just doesn't know the half of it yet though.

Ana: Oh, I do hope you're still reading. In response to your lovely review (I truly mean it), I know Malfoy isn't a good guy; he's just really fun to look at, thus why he's in the fic. hehe. I've also gone and answered your question about Ginny. I'm afraid I've gone and offed her as well. I know, I'm horrible. And as for the angst, yeah, I know. I feel bad about it sometimes, since it's just not most people's cup of tea, or what have you -- but I might just surprise you all with a rather unangsty ending. waggles eyebrows :)

Astrianna Glaze: Well, I guess Hermione didn't really think of Fred this chapter either, but I'll try to incorporate a flashback in the next chapter... because, yes, she would be thinking of him, despite how much it hurts to do so. I think that's why Draco fills up so much of her thoughts: it's easier to hate him and try to figure out what he's up to than dwell on her lost loves.


	17. Standing Just Where We Started

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the Harry Potter series, but I would love to own the Weasley twins. :)

* * *

I began the next day with a new resolution to simply pretend _Professor _Malfoy was nothing more than that. Because, really, he wasn't. He was simply my colleague in helping shape the minds of the future.

Never mind the question as to how he was even remotely fit to be in such a position. _Never mind _because I was no longer wasting my time thinking on such matters.

Theoretically, my plan was brilliant. Somehow I had sincerely thought it'd be such in reality too. But I had forgotten one small facet while devising my strategy: the kids liked -- no, probably loved -- Professor Malfoy.

I have no idea how he managed to pull it off, but he had. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say he was probably bribing them with sweets and good grades. That would've been enough to get on the good side of any of the younger students. But the communal feelings of love for the blonde ferret didn't simply stop with the young and easily swayed students. I knew that many of the Seventh years, people who'd actually been at Hogwarts previously with him, and knew exactly what he had been and what role he'd played all those years, admired him just as much, if not more, than the younger students. And I just wasn't sure how he'd managed it.

Anyway, like I said, I'd forgotten about the students' unusual love and loyalty to the professor. Apparently I hadn't exuded enough warmth to my students thus far this year. Though, I guess it wouldn't have hurt to learn their names, at the least. I could only suppose Mr.-Congeniality-Malfoy had taken the time to do so. He could be such a suck-up when he wanted to be.

Wait. No. Those trains of thought were not productive. I wasn't going to go there.

Instead, I decided to do something productive with my day, like learn the kids' names.

However, that plan came to an abrupt halt when I'd entered my first class of that day and found Professor Malfoy sitting at one of the desks with a student that looked eerily similar to him. How had I not noticed the resemblance before?

Pushing the question away, I tried to overcome the initial surprise of Malfoy -- damn, _Professor _Malfoy -- being in my classroom at all.

I coolly asked, "Professor, to what do I owe the honor?"

He, however, wasn't going for the suave approach apparently, since his first response was a snort.

If only he'd stopped there. Oh, how I wish he'd simply stopped there.

Instead, a large grin spread across his face and he replied, "Peer reviews, Professor. Surely the Headmistress informed you I'd be popping in on you today?"

Pursing my lips together and placing my hands on my hips, I processed his claim. I didn't think it was very probable he was there for a peer review on McGonagall's request; especially since she was altogether quite aware of the mutual feelings of distaste we held for each other. (Never mind there were several other new feelings we held for each other.) Did he really think I was so stupid as to not see through him?

Rolling my eyes I responded, "Professor, I highly doubt that's true. The Headmistress hasn't once even mentioned peer reviews. Now, if you would kindly leave, I have a class to teach."

Instead of rising up from the desk, however, he cast me a lazy smile before shooting a pointed look at one of the students in the back of the room.

The same student whose hand promptly rose in the air.

A small bit of panic was beginning to bubble up inside of my stomach. I had to get Malfoy out of this room, and quick.

Sighing internally, I nodded to the same student.

Smiling brightly she questioned, "Oh, Professor Granger, perhaps it would be nice if Prof Mal could stay for a bit?"

Prof Mal? _Prof Mal!_

I barely had time to digest this before another hand had risen closer to the front and then another across the room.

Turning my head to the student toward the front, I silently hoped he had a question related to Arithmancy. _Please, please, please let it be about Arithmancy_.

"Yes?" I inquired.

After giving Malfoy -- oh, excuse me, _Prof Mal_ -- a reassuring glance, he faced me, stating, "Prof Mal always says that Potions and Arithmancy overlap, and that to fully appreciate either one, a good witch or wizard needs to recognize how the two work hand-in-hand."

Hand-in-hand, indeed, I scoffed to myself as the boy rattled on. He'd like that, the prat -- Malfoy, I mean, not the student, whatever his name was.

I opened my mouth to reply, but found I had absolutely nothing to counter that argument with. I mean, I couldn't possibly argue that the two fields definitely have more than just a few common characteristics.

Finally Malfoy rose to his feet, speaking to my two students who had just voiced their opinions about his presence, "Shannon, Andrew, you know I'd love to stay, really. But I'm not altogether sure my presence is welcome today."

I watched in incredulity as I saw students turning to whisper to their tablemates, a few openly exclaiming they, in fact, wanted him to stay. I guess, bugger my opinions on the matter, as far as they were concerned.

It was in that instant I knew why I hadn't bothered to learn their names: they were born traitors.

Well, okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh. They're only kids after all. Sometimes it's easy to forget the world isn't all as jaded as I happen to be. But I didn't think they had to be so naïve as to think _Prof Mal_ was a decent guy.

I guess one could say I saw red. And the next thing I knew I was yelling at Malfoy, telling him he could teach my class if he was so intent on being in the room. Because, after all, how hard could it be since the two subjects were just _so _similar?

After having said my piece, I stalked out of the classroom and headed straight toward my quarters.

Once in my quarters, I flung myself rather dramatically onto my bed. It took a moment or so to steady my erratic breathing; apparently the screams I'd let out once I'd reached my room hadn't helped stabilize anything either.

And then, for seemingly no reason at all, I was reminded of a nightmare I used to have repeatedly once upon a time while Fred and I had been living at Grimmauld Place and the events that had unfolded after waking from the dream one particular night:

_Walking through the shadowed Grimmauld Place sometime just after two in the morning, I pause to let my fingers brush across the back of a worn, dark green leather couch. For a moment I think I catch a glimpse of Fred out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to get a better look, there is nothing there. Furrowing my eyebrows, I set out to find the elusive Fred. He has to be somewhere in the mansion, after all. As I walk up the old stairs, I listen to each of them creak beneath my weight, but somehow the noise doesn't sound as it once had. Now it sounds almost foreboding, a warning for me not to continue my journey up them. However, I dismiss the feeling, chalking it up to a lack of sleep and proper nourishment. Climbing higher and higher, I finally reach the floor I am looking for. It seems someone has taken down the illuminating spells which usually keep this hall well lit, which, yes, is slightly disconcerting. However, I am on a mission to find him. _

_"Fred?" I call out hesitantly. The shadows dancing on the walls are beginning to make me feel slightly uneasy._

_No reply. _

_I move down the hallway toward his room, thinking perhaps he'll be there. Never mind the fact he's not slept in that room for ages; always, instead, opting for my room with the larger bed and more windows. _

_I reach his door and move to open the door, but am surprised when I find it locked._

_Pulling out my wand, I whisper, "Alohamora." The door swings open, which is slightly odd. _

_However, I never get to ponder the peculiarity of this since the next thing I notice is a red-headed figure draped haphazardly across the bed. _

_A small noise escapes my throat as I rush to the bed. _

_No. Not Fred. Not Fred. _

I woke with a start, tears streaming across my face and coming to rest in my hair and pillow. I frantically reached out to his side of the bed, praying he'd be there.

He wasn't.

I pulled my legs toward my chest, trying my best to huddle myself into as small of a ball as I can manage while wholehearted sobs wracked my frame.

A voice somehow finds its way to my ears over my weeping, asking concernedly, "Hermione, what is it, love?"

The sound of him moving toward me became my next focus of attention.

Turning toward him, I took in a shaky breath, barely managing the words, "Fred... it was so horrible. You-you were..." I stopped to swallow back a few of my tears, "you were gone. An-and, I just knew I'd never see you again."

I saw love (and worry) shining through his eyes as he gazed down at me.

He moved to join me once again in my bed, as he did this, I continued,

"I-I just don't know if I can take this."

He wrapped his arms around me as he whispered, "Love, don't do this to yourself. You're stronger than all of this."

I wished I could bury myself beneath his skin and be with him always. We never had been as physically close as I would've liked -- as I needed -- to feel completely safe from the collapsing outside world. In a vain attempt to achieve this feeling, however, I pulled him as close to me as I could manage. Once I can feel his heart beat reverberate through his body, I finally felt myself coming down from my hysteria.

Finally, I replied, "No, you-you're wrong. I _used _to be stronger than all of this. But not anymore -- not ever again."

His fingers began running through my hair, in an attempt, I knew, to console me, "I know that's not true."

Silence enveloped us, I counted the moments passing by with every heartbeat that resounded through his body.

I knew then that I wouldn't have been able to do anything without him. Maybe once upon a time I would've been able to, back when I wanted nothing more than to be an independent woman of the world, a woman who fought to prove herself in a male-dominated society... or some rubbish like that. I hadn't understood, then, there were things far more important to overcome than "oppression" of one sex over another. However, at that moment in time I had understood that all too well and was more than willing to allow myself to fall into the cliché roll women always seemed to take in classic literature.

I recognized that my past self would've been terribly disappointed in what I had become. Not that that mattered; I wouldn't have understood back then, and for some reason I was grateful for that.

After what seemed like eons, I whispered, "Promise me you'll never leave me."

A quick reply, "Hermione, I wish I--"

Voice cracking, I pleaded, "Promise me, Fred. _Promise_."

I felt him take in a deep breath and sigh. Finally he responded, "I... I promise, love."

When I opened my eyes to look at him, spotting a tear running down his cheek, illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the window hangings.

But he didn't stop at just that, he continued, "You know I'll do whatever it takes to always be here for you."

I knew I had asked too much of him.

My past self never would've been like this, never would've done the things I do.

But then again, I'd had Ron then.

And that's where the difference between my selves came in, really.

_Loss affects everyone in different ways_, at least that's what everyone had told me once the war started. They had told me to keep a lookout for myself, I was supposed to watch myself to make sure I didn't let myself slip away right along with the deceased.

At the time, I hadn't believed them, after all, what did they know? And all I knew was I'd never read anything of the sort in any of my books. Their advice had no credibility.

Until later, that is.

I knew I had lost myself, but somehow I'd found another part of me somewhere deep inside -- another part I never would've discovered without the help of Fred Weasley. I had known I was weak. I had known if I lost Fred I'd lose that newly unearthed part of myself. And I had known I would never be able to recover.

So what if I had been selfish in asking him to promise me he'd always be around? The world had never, ever revolved around me, and all I wanted was just that one simple thing. It truly shouldn't have be too much to ask.

Now, however, I know that it truly _had _been too much to ask.

Hermione Granger doesn't get the happy ending. She doesn't get the boy of her dreams or the knight in shining armor who had rescued her at the last possible moment. In the end, she doesn't even get herself. She's simply left with a troublemaking ferret and a handful of (fickle) students to teach.

This is your life, Hermione Granger, I thought as I picked at the fringe on the closest throw pillow. _This is your life_.

It was, I felt, a small wonder I wasn't severely depressed.

But then again, what did I know anyway?

* * *

**A/N**: I feel slightly triumphant I managed to write a bit more than the usual 2000 words.

**Steel-Phoenix**: Thank you for the complimentary review! I do plan on seeing this fic through to the end, which just might end up being a whole lot sooner than anyone anticipates (but then again, what do I know?). I'll keep a prequel in mind, though it might be sorta tough coming up with some semblance of a timeline what with all the flashbacks worked into the plotline of this fic. Were you hoping for a R/H fic or a F/H one?

**BlendedFrog**: I'm a huge angst fan as well, which pretty much comes through in absolutely everything I write. I'm glad you enjoy it though :) I didn't really work any of the students in because I'm not a big fan of original characters at all, but I'll see if I can subtlety work a few in for you. - Every angst fic should have a frustrating guy - personally, I love to hate him! Thanks for taking the time to review!

**Astrianna Glaze**: No, thank you for reviewing! And, yeah, it could pretty much clear up who's running around muggle London. Or does it? ;) Oh, and Harry... I sort of saw him as everyone's rock, despite the fact he's the one with the most responsibility. As for Malfoy, his parents did a job on him (after all, it's easier to blame the parents). See you next time!

**Ana**: Thank you for continuing reading even when my story got dangerously close to the H/D ship. While Hermione is smart, she's not the same person she was before the war and slips up in the weirdest ways -- mostly while dealing with one Draco Malfoy. Thanks for taking the time to review!

**Review?**


	18. Concentrating On Falling Apart

**Disclaimer**: I own my very own copy of Harry and the Potters self-titled release, but alas, I don't own the characters in this fic.

* * *

Now what, wondered Draco Malfoy, on earth was that? Last he'd checked he'd practically had Granger in his back pocket -- well, at the very least, in his pants. And today? Well, he just couldn't be sure what happened today.

I mean, yeah, he was definitely _sure _that bint Granger had left him -- _effing abandoned him _-- to teach Arithmancy to a class full of his adoring students.

And, honestly, let's just clear a few things up right here and now: he knew nothing -- absolutely _nothing _-- about Arithmancy. Nothing. And if the truth were to be told, he really didn't know all that much about Potions either. Snape had always just let him slip by because he was, like, the Pureblooded-Wizard-In-Training-Extraordinaire (capital letters and all!).

Anyway, he simply ended up letting the whole class go early, telling them to read what ever chapter they were currently on. There really hadn't been anything else he could tell them to do. They were already on to him by this point in the school year anyway; you know, the whole him-not-really-knowing-shit-about-potions. However, they hadn't brought their concerns to him or anyone else, for that matter, so far. If he had to guess, he'd say they probably felt bad for him or something. Not that that made much sense, but there it was:

_Poor, misguided Prof Mal _(a nickname, by the way, he despised -- maybe that was how his pupils were getting back at him, with ridiculous names for him) _who doesn't have anybody to love him_.

Well, fuck that. Seriously. Fuck it. He didn't need anyone to _love _him. He didn't even need this job. He had himself, all in one piece (not complete, per se, but close enough) after the war. And at the end of the day, that's all that mattered. Well, that and somehow getting Granger to be solely his. Which, now, seemed as if it was going to be slightly more complicated than he'd originally anticipated.

...Anyway, or maybe the kids were just like, "Hell yeah! We're all _so _totally gonna ace this stupid course 'cause our professor has no idea of just what it is we're supposed to be learning! Yes!" Then, of course, after realizing this, they would've gone around high-fiving everyone within sight.

Stupid kids.

Stupid Malfoy.

Stupid Granger. Yeah! Stupid Granger. This was her fault.

Merlin, he hated her -- wanted her -- didn't _need _her -- had to have her -- **would **have her.

One way or another.

He had only hoped, in the beginning, that it would be a slightly less messy process. Now, however, it seemed all bets were off and things were going to get ugly.

If he wanted any chance to win her in this game, he most definitely needed to clear the field of any extra players.

So what did that mean? Well, it was something like this: Weasley was going down. And soon, too. Draco really couldn't risk him (somehow) randomly showing up outside her door. He needed to be eliminated from the picture.

Now it was only a matter of finding Weasley.

o o o

The worst things to handle are the moving photographs. Never in all my years in the magical world had I truly gotten used to them. It was one thing if the photograph was current - i.e.: the people in it were still alive... but those photos containing representations of what-once-was were almost just too much to handle. It may seem odd, I know, but for some reason muggle photographs just seem more fitting for the deceased.

However, in the muggle world, I am not. I live in a world where the memories I captured throughout my young-adult life are forever waving back at me through frames and out of albums. More than just images get captured through this form of photography, entire personalities are caught and forever held in shiny parchment.

Somehow it just seems that their absence from the living realm would be easier to accept if I could look back at a still representation of what we all had been. Instead, when flipping through photo albums, I find myself watching individual pictures:

Inevitably, Harry will push his hair about, in an effort to either simply flatten it out or cover his scar. Ron will always do something absurd, like putting bunny ears on Harry or the next closest victim. I am always elbowing Ron, whilst still holding my winning smile for the camera, and mumbling through gritted teeth for him to "just grow up, already!"

Of course there are the few where I'm sneaking glances at Ron out of the corner of my eye, while he stood there perfectly oblivious, or so I thought at the time. Now it's almost painful (not in an emotional way, more of an embarrassing one) to see how obvious we both were in matters regarding each other.

Then there's the one Harry ambled out of just before the picture was to be taken. In it, I turn to Ron and give him a small smirk, which he returns (without his ears even faintly turning red) and in a burst of Gryffindor courage, he (not so gracefully) swings his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a half-hug. After that it was impossible not to beam at the camera.

There are also the ones of myself and Ginny, we're forever looking at each other, making sure the other doesn't have something ridiculous, like remnants from lunch, stuck on her face -- I guess growing up with Ron had lasting consequences on both of us -- before we turn our attention to the camera and smile.

Later there are ones of Harry and Ginny, ones Harry told me to take good care of and make sure they didn't fall into the wrong hands. The wrong hands, of course, being someone from the _other _side. It was really the only solace he could have about the entire situation. He knew being with Ginny would put her in harm's way, but he also had learned (the hard way, might I add) that he really wasn't who he wanted to be without her by his side, so to speak -- they actually didn't get a whole lot of time together alone.

There are dozens of pictures of the two of them, because they knew time was fleeting, that every moment should be lived to the fullest, that things simply shouldn't and couldn't be left to say some other day. We all knew "some other day" wasn't a viable option anymore. And I guess Colin Creevey would've rather been damned than let any photo opportunity he spotted go without being taken advantage of.

So there are photos of the rare moments where the two were seemingly alone, curled up together on an oversized floral-patterned couch, Harry playing with Ginny's long hair while she softly whispers something only he can hear. Or the one of them walking down the small path outside the burrow, towards the garden, hand in hand.

I don't look at the pictures that were taken after Ron and I had (finally) confessed our feelings for each other. In those pictures I knew I would see a future in both of our eyes that never came to pass. We held such hope for the future, even though we fully knew at the time it was in vain.

Yet, I know those pictures still exist in that small mulberry colored album I have tucked away in the bottom of a box of old keepsakes. And somehow that's enough, just knowing proof of those days exist somewhere on this earth.

However, there are no pictures of Fred and me. Somehow the lack of photographic evidence of an "us" sometimes makes me wonder if there ever was one.

Were we ever "we"? There always had been something so much bigger than anything either one of us could've ever imagined, constantly looming over us and taking up space in our minds and hearts.

I mean, when were we ever just "Fred and Hermione," those two _crazy _love-struck kids?

That's right. Never. And it was all because of the war.

But, then again, if it hadn't been for the war I never would've ended up with Fred anyway. Would I've?

Those sorts of questions could drive a person mad. I'm sure they'll take me to my breaking point some day. It's only a matter of when.

Maybe going mad would be a nice change of pace. After all, people who are mad don't know they're mad, do they?

Maybe if I constructed a world of my very own, things could be just how I wanted them.

My world would be one centered around Hogwarts. The Hogwarts of my past, though. The one where Harry and Ron would play endless games of Wizard Chess while I sat curled up on a squashy chair reading a book and simultaneously eavesdropping on the twins and Lee Jordan develop their newest harebrained scheme. Ginny would be there too, maybe sitting beside Harry, just watching the game unfold. Dean and Seamus would be playing a game of Exploding Snap in a corner, and for once I wouldn't scold them for being overly loud. Oliver Wood would be at a table with Angelina and Katie, coming up with some sort of strategy for the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Lavender and Parvati would be doing something vain, like painting each other's nails and gossiping about how Neville finally got up the nerve to ask Luna for a date to Hogsmeade. Neville would be sitting in a chair, lost in a world known only to him, maybe a place where he and Luna were grown and living out their own personal happily-ever-after.

It would be a world before Umbridge, before the Tri-Wizard Tournament, before Dumbledore's death. It would be... a former state of perfection. Something we'd been so close to in the past, but had no idea at the time it would forever be remembered as a time when things were as good as they ever were going to be.

I'd like nothing more than to return to such a time. Even if it never really had ever existed.

o o o

It's not hard to find someone in the wizarding world as long as the person who's looking knows specifically whom they're looking for.

A few carefully worded spells directed at a blank piece of parchment is all it takes for the page to fill with black ink, outlining roads, rivers, railroads... producing a very accurate map of the surrounding area where the specific person is located.

This process is especially easy if the person being sought after doesn't know enough to make themselves unplotable. You know, someone who maybe lost their memory and didn't know to keep a low profile because there was a deranged wizard looking for him. Yeah, that kind of person.

It was actually a small marvel in itself that Granger hadn't tried this in the first place. But that's the problem with trusting everything you hear, you end up believing things that aren't necessarily true. But still, it was odd that she, in some fit of denial, hadn't tried a similar spell.

Maybe Granger just didn't do denial?

Whatever the answer was, Draco Malfoy didn't care. He was going to get to the Weasel before she did and then it would be just as if he had died years ago.

The world would certainly be none the wiser.

He was bloody brilliant sometimes. Handsome too, but that really wasn't being called into question anyway.

But yes, there it was, a map pointing him right to his prey.

It was almost too simple.

But then again, there really wasn't anything wrong with simple. It could be very nice and tidy. Granger liked tidy things. He could now see her appreciation hadn't been misplaced.

Why, he could have this little problem taken care of before nightfall.

Was he slightly deranged?

Well, perhaps the better question would be: Has he ever been okay?

No one can know for sure, and besides, that's a story for a different time. For now the world will sit back and wait for his next move.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to my reviewers for taking the time to ...uh... review!

**screwtheperfectlife**: Yeah, it is all a bit depressing, isn't it? However, I'm pretty sure I'm not letting on to who Mr. Weasley is until the end... if he makes it that far, that is. :)

**AstriannaGlaze**: Very good thoughts about Sir Amnesiac. I actually hadn't considered the accidental magic, but it _would _probably happen, wouldn't it:)

**Recommendations **(even though no one's been asking): There are a few really good post-HBP fics floating around out there. For some reason I'm compelled to share with you a few of my favorites: "_Haven_" by **trieste **and "_Ends of the Earth_" by **SilverStar24**. They're both of the Dramione variety... and I know a few of you readers are like waaay against that, but if it makes it any better, there really hasn't been any Dramione action yet. ;) Also, anything by **bk **is well worth your time. :) -- Also, if you're as big of an angst fan as I am, I would recommend you read the book "The Handmaid's Tale" by **Margaret Atwood**. It's a freaking angst-fest and I love it.

**Review?**


	19. I'm Under The Assumption

**Disclaimer**: There's this rumor going around that I don't own the characters, the setting, or the plot. I'm here to let you know that, well... the rumors are true. It's not mine. I'm just warping it for my own amusement.

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I felt like a hunter stalking my prey. 

Not that this was a new feeling. Everyone remembered all too well the Second War. It hadn't been that long ago. We all remembered what it felt like to track someone, crouching behind inanimate objects, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

War makes humans into animals; it turns the world into a game of survival of the fittest. And I'll be damned if those muggle-loving blood traitors hadn't been the fittest.

I certainly hadn't seen that coming. After all, if I had, I would've changed sides long before the time I did.

I wasn't "loyal to a greater cause" or some other complete rubbish like that. Unless, of course, the cause was called "Let's Keep Draco's Beautiful Head In It's Rightful Place On Top Of His Broad Shoulders." Which of course no one's cause but mine had been.

And so, yeah, I became this primitive beast, seeking out my supposedly less intelligent prey. But you know what? They weren't stupid, and they had magic on their side too. Yeah, the Death Eaters thought they had that under control with extensive knowledge of Dark Magic, they hadn't expected the other side to resort to learning those sorts of spells. They _honestly _thought those filth-loving wizards would just sit around and let the "dark side" slaughter them with evil magic.

I guess that's when you could say the lines between good and evil, light and dark began to blur. I mean, yeah, the initial reasons for fighting the war were still there. But at the end of the day we were just killing ourselves off. Forget the muggles being a threat to our survival, we'd successfully become our own worst enemies. But that realization didn't stop anything. We were all too far gone by that point.

And that's where I am today: too far gone. Too invested in some thing -- some idea of what the future should be -- to pay the slightest attention to the ends I'll go to for the end result I'm looking for.

But what is it that I am doing?

I'm going to kill for the first time since the war ended. And it wasn't even as if I had taken all that many lives during the war either. I hadn't exactly been on the front lines, so to speak. My failure involving Dumbledore had displeased the Dark Lord very much. And rather than kill me he opted to let me suffer with my guilt and made me a servant of sorts to Professor Snape.

He protected me when he could, but he wasn't always there. It was in those moments when I was attacked on my own, when I retaliated. And I wasn't retaliating against blood-traitors either, it was my own people. Even my own father one time. But I guess you could say I caught him slightly off guard. He always had underestimated me. Underestimated how much I blamed him for everything that was my life. Because if it hadn't been for him maybe I would've turned out all right. Or, at the very least, a fraction less fucked up. But, as they say... "he created his own monster." And you know what monsters do. They kill. Because they can.

But that's beside the point. Isn't it? ...I have to believe that's beside the point.

So there I was, once again throwing myself into the muggle world. And let me tell you something about muggles. They're _weird_. Talking into these miniscule bits of plastic while racing around in these horrendous hunks of metal that just so happen to be on wheels. I mean, _come on_, anyone could see no good could come of something like that. You don't see wizards carrying on a conversation with someone else while traveling by floo or while they're apparating. It'd be far too dangerous. But I guess someone forgot to tell them this. It still boggles my mind how they ever won the war.

Anyway, at least this time I wasn't back in London. I really might've considered letting him just go loose if finding him had meant me going back into that particular pit of chaos. No, the fool was living in the middle-of-nowhere English countryside. And since I couldn't simply just apparate outside his front door, I found myself hiking through a bunch of weeds uphill to the place of his current residence.

I'm going to let you in on a little secret: I fucking despise the outdoors. And it's not just because my skin burns like mad after being out in the sunlight for ten minutes, it's also because there are bugs in the great outdoors. And you know what bugs do; they bite, the buzz in your ear, they fly in your mouth when you least expect it and you're left agonizing over the fact you actually _ate a bug _for the rest of the day. The English countryside has those sort of terrorists-in-training bugs and it's as sunny as all get out.

So let's just say when I finally reached the front gate of the Weasel layer, I wasn't at my best. I took a second or two to take a few deep, cleansing breaths. Yeah, I know it sounds like some sort of new-age muggle mumbo-jumbo, but it really does work. I had to concentrate on the task at hand. I had a mission, and after I had completed this mission the rest of my life would be waiting for me.

o o o

I am in a dingy room where I feel as if I have spent days, even months simply lounging around in. But this room isn't from my current life, it had been from before. From the days where I used magic and flew around on a broom, from the life where I was in love with a girl named Hermione who had the most unusual curly hair.

She is here in this room with me, standing idly by a window, reading a thin book. The mere sight of her compels me to close the distance between the two of us. I slowly reach out to touch her face, catching her off guard and she jumps slightly, the book falling out of her hands and hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud. After the initial surprise fades from her features, a wide smile takes its place. She moves closer to me, grabbing my left hand with her right. I stare down at our intertwined fingers, noticing how small hers looks in mine.

She speaks softly, "Hey, you. I thought you were going to be gone all afternoon?"

I let out a small chuckle and reply in the same hushed tone, "I got off early for good behavior."

She gives me an entirely disbelieving, yet at the same time amused look.

I shrug and continue, whispering, "Hey, it could happen."

She doesn't reply other than moving closer to me and wrapping her left arm around me.

I try to act unaffected, ignoring the familiar stab of Merlin-knows-what in my chest, and lightly tease, "But I could leave again if you don't want me here."

She tries her best to bury her head in the front of my corduroy jacket and I hear a muffled sound come out of her. She removes her hand from mine and wraps it around my waist.

She's not making what I will eventually have to tell her any easier. But I can't think about that now. Later, maybe. Tomorrow, even.

I rest my head on top of hers and wrap her up in my arms as well as I question, "Now, what was that, love?"

She moves her head to the side and whispers, "No. Stay." Her grasp around my waist tightens a bit more and then she continues, "I want you here with me."

There's that stab again. I really wish it would stop pestering me. How am I supposed to be strong when every time she says something like that it makes me feel this way? I know I have to say something soon, or I won't be able to at all. If I wait to long, my voice will give out and then she'll know that something's wrong.

I clear my throat a little, "Good, because I _want _to be here with you."

I hear the smile in her voice when she replies, "Well, of course you do. I'm fabulous."

This breaks the tension inside me and I'm able to go along with the banter, "Fabulously fabulous. In fact, I don't know why you wait for me at all."

She playfully scoffs and replies airily, "Oh, I wasn't waiting for you. I just got caught up in a book and forgot to plan my great escape out from under your clutches."

I smile, "That's been happening a lot lately, hasn't it?"

She moves her head away from my chest and her eyes finally meet mine, "Turns out your clutches weren't all that bad after all."

I raise my eyebrows and say, "I'm so glad you've come around to my way of thinking."

She mockingly raises her eyebrows as well and whispers, "Me too."

There's more to this scene. I know it. But I suddenly find myself awake and now the room is gone and so is she. Though, these dreams are nothing new. I've been having them every night for well over a month now. I'm waiting for the dream to come that will lead me back to her.

Sunlight is streaming in through my open window on the second floor and dancing across my bed. There seems to be something urgent in the air. I sit up and quickly retrieve a crumpled green t-shirt from the hardwood floor and pull it over my head before I move out of bed. I go to the window and glance down. Much to my surprise I see a blonde, bedraggled looking man just outside the front gate.

And I know within an instant who it is. Or at least who he claims to be.

I weigh my options quickly in my mind. A link to my past is a link to my past, despite the fact I've yet to have a dream where he makes an appearance. And no, it doesn't exactly bode well that he's shown up unexpectedly quite literally on my front doorstep, especially after how he ended our last encounter. But he knows her, my Hermione. And he also knows where she is.

And that's all that really matters, isn't it?

Then, rather unexpectedly, a brief flash of me physically attacking the blonde man (though he was younger then) resonates through my mind.

What happened next really has no explanation, or at least it didn't at the time. It was simply as if someone had flipped a switch inside my mind and thousands of things began flooding my senses. Muggles like to use the term of their "life flashing before their eyes."

It was a jumble of things I didn't, at the time, think I'd ever be able to properly sort out: throwing gnomes across a rather unkempt lawn, passing through a wall in a train station while pushing a trolley full of a few large trunks, driving a flying car through the open sky, eating some sort of pill and having to run to the bathroom while my brother laughed himself silly, running through a campsite that was aflame and seeing strangely cloaked people slowly marching through the chaos, flying across an open pitch and seeing the stands alive with red and gold, green and silver, yellow and black, blue and gray.

And even more unexpectedly the window I was still staring out of suddenly shattered into an innumerable amount of pieces.

o o o

For some reason the sudden explosion of glass didn't surprise me in the least. I mean, I hadn't been expecting it, but surprise is something only foolish people permit themselves to feel. That's something my father instilled in me for as long as I could remember.

The shards of glass raining down across the lawn in front of me let me know one thing and one thing only: I was going to need a new game plan. And fast.

* * *

**A/N**: Giant thanks to my reviewers! 

Astrianna Glaze: Sometimes I just want to hug Mr. Malfoy, even if he is a slightly deranged borderline psychopath. I mean, honestly, who isn't some days? ;) Thanks for the compliment on the moving pictures bit, it means a lot to me! And of course you were making sense, it was all very crystal clear. And look at that! Some has already taken place with the bedroom window!

screwtheperfectlife: You shall know who the Weasley is all in good time, young grasshopper. As for your question of who she loves more... I don't really think there's any way to compare between the two. Her different relationships took place in two completely different circumstances, and somehow I think that'd change things. ...Okay, so that's crap. Yeah, she loves one of them more than the other! hehe :)


	20. But It's All We've Got Now

**Disclaimer**: It's all been said before.. I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

It was a month since that fateful day, which had been highlighted with shattering glass and perhaps the shattering of a few other things.

Are you wondering who the victor was? If so, then I must ask you this: Does there always need to be a winner? Sometimes, don't both people lose? And even more rare, both win?

Which of the two prevailed that day will be revealed, but in its own time. After all, there's more to this story than a simple win or loss.

There's the girl. The girl who lost so much and yet found a way to function; even though she has yet to be who she once was.

She's where this story began; well, at least in a letter to her, and with her we continue:

My first semester of teaching was over. I had no idea as a student that the professors looked toward the winter holidays with as much anticipation as the students. Not that I had been one of those students, but that was truly beside the point; I was one of those professors now. And it was certainly time for a break.

Remus and Tonks had owled me, asking me to stay with them for the break a few weeks earlier and I found myself accepting their invitation without a moments hesitation.

Once I reached my quarters I threw on my traveling cloak, having long since packed up a select few of my belongings into my trunk. I hastily placed a levitating charm on it and started back toward the door of my chambers, planning on walking to an apparation point just beyond Hogwarts' boundaries.

I was startled to see someone standing in the shadows just outside of my door. I forgot to keep the levitating charm going and my trunk fell rather violently to the floor with a resounding _thud_.

The shadowed figure stepped underneath the doorjamb. It, of course, was Malfoy. He stood there expressionless with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black robes; eyes seemingly trained on the contents of my trunk which were now strewn out around it.

I should've known he would come around before I left on holiday.

The difference in him became more and more apparent in him every time I found myself in his presence. I had no idea what had changed him, but a change certainly couldn't be denied any longer.

I began gently, "Malfoy?"

Seemingly startled out of his reverie, his head jerked up and silver eyes met mine at once.

I did my best to suppress a frown. Slightly worried, I moved across the expanse of the room toward him and questioned, "Are you feeling quite all right? You don't look well at all..."

An expression that can only be described as pained overtook his features and soon he was moving a step closer to me. And before I knew what was happening I found myself wrapped up in his arms.

Draco Malfoy was _hugging _me. Only in a sort of platonic way I hadn't known since Harry, a lifetime ago.

I was too shocked to do anything at all at first, but slowly I found myself embracing him as well.

It was all so surreal. If something like this had happened during our years of schooling I would've been sure it was some sort of trap, but now I couldn't be sure what it was at all.

As we stood there for what seemed an eternity my mind raced with questions.

Finally I quietly inquired, "What changed?"

He pulled away slightly, catching my eyes, hands still resting on my back. I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down a few times before he answered me, "I did." his voice cracked slightly, "Nobody thought it possible, least of all me." He brought a hand up to stroke my hair and then continued, "It's all because of you."

I moved back out of his hold, deciding some space was precisely what the conversation needed. None of it made any sense. I hadn't _changed _Draco Malfoy, I hadn't even tried to. He was the textbook version of a Lost Cause.

I cleared my throat, "I -- I don't understand..."

He cut me off with soft laughter and spoke in a hushed tone, "But you will, Hermione."

I briefly calculated the quickest route from my chambers to the infirmary, because that was obviously where he needed to be. Deciding on a course, I now only had to figure out a way to get him there.

I forced a smile, "All right then."

He stared at me with a knowing glance and commented, "I'm not ill, you know. I'm better than I've ever been. Soon you will be too."

This was getting slightly frightening.

My eyes darted around my room, any excuse not to look into his eyes as I feigned remembrance and exclaimed, "Oh, I've just remembered something I've left behind in my classroom that I'll be needing for the break. Would you care to join me in fetching it?"

He simply smiled at me and replied, "There's nothing in your classroom you need; I'm not going to the infirmary."

My false smile melted right off my features, leaving only an expression of slight panic.

He smiled genuinely as he pulled out his wand and whispered a spell that caused all my strewn belongings to fly back into my trunk, lid shutting moments later.

He nodded his head as if affirming his actions, then turned his attention back to me, "Now, Hermione, you'd best be going. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful holiday."

I watched rather dumbfounded as he turned, exited from my chambers, and disappeared down the hall.

I slowly turned from the door. Yes, leaving the castle as soon as possible sounded more appealing than ever before. I quickly levitated my trunk once again and left my chambers, whispering a locking spell as I briskly walked down the halls to the exit.

o o o

I arrived just outside Grimmauld Place; unsurprisingly it looked just as it always had. I walked up the path to the front door, pulling my trunk behind me and knocked at the front door.

I was instantly greeted by Tonks, whose hair was a festive shade of red and had seemingly opted for elfish ears for the occasion as well.

She pulled me into a quick hug before calling over her shoulder, "Remus, dear! Hermione has arrived! Come and say hello!"

She turned back to me and smiled, "Oh, come on in from the cold."

As she drug my trunk in from the step she questioned, "Would you like anything to eat?"

She huffed as she slid it to halt just beside the umbrella rack before continuing, "Merlin knows we've got simply loads. I just couldn't convince Remus it would all be too much; after all, it's not like we're expecting a crowd of people or anything. He wouldn't hear any of it though and just kept placing orders with the bakery and the butcher like food was going out of style."

I smiled at Tonks, it was good to see her so happy.

I followed her into the kitchen, where we found Lupin looking rather pleased with himself as he admired a gingerbread house he was constructing on the kitchen counter.

He beamed brightly at me, looking better than I had, well, ever seen him look. He wiped his frosting-covered hands on a nearby towel and came over to greet me with a hug.

"Hermione, dear, it's been too long. You have no idea how glad Nymphadora and I are to have you here with us to share the holidays!"

I smiled, returning his hug and responding, "I'm happy I could make it. I've missed the two of you."

The rest of the afternoon was filled with the three of us catching up; I learned the two of them were planning on being married in late July. This, of course, led to many lively conversations with Tonks about a myriad of wedding things. And even though I was happy for her I couldn't help the slight pang of jealousy that had flared inside of me. Times like those I couldn't help but think of... well, you know.

Despite that, the rest of the week leading up to Christmas simply flew by, full of cookie decorating, tree trimming, and present wrapping.

And then it was finally Christmas Eve.

Everything was picturesque, really. The snow was falling softly outside, illuminated by the corner streetlamp. The tree in the sitting room was alight with dozens of miniature candles as the fireplace in the far corner of the room emitted heat. Remus was busily scanning through a book, looking for a spell to bewitch the piano to play Christmas music while Tonks and I were sitting on the couch nearest the tree, drinking warm pumpkin juice as we waited for him to come join us so we could begin opening the presents. I had decided to spend my time reading a book I'd picked out of the upstairs library.

Just as I heard the piano begin to tinkle out the first few notes of an unfamiliar song I also thought I heard a soft knock at the front door.

I turned to ask Tonks if she'd heard it too, but she and Remus seemed to have disappeared from the room. Despite my finding their sudden absence slightly odd, I rose from the couch and made my way to the front door, not wanting to bother them wherever it was they had gotten off to.

Just as I had almost reached the door I heard Tonks' muffled voice call out, "Oh, Hermione, you wouldn't mind getting that, would you?"

I amusedly rolled my eyes and yelled back, "No problem at all!"

I heard a muffled "Thanks" and then I reached for the knob and opened the door. I was instantly met with a rush of cold air and a considerable amount of snow to my face. I reflexively moved away from the door, wiping the wetness from my face.

Snow was still swirling around the open door, obstructing my view of the visitor. Smiling I asked, "Come in, won't you? I'll get Remus--"

The rest of what I was about to say died on my lips as the visitor moved in out of the cold, shutting the door behind himself and stepping into the light of the foyer -- light that reflected brilliantly off the snowflakes which were melting in fiery red hair.

My entire body seemed to go numb instantly. I knew my mouth had fallen open. This couldn't be... it just couldn't... He was dead. _Dead_. Everyone had told me so. So what if no one had seen him die? Dozens of people had never been found.

He was smiling down at me; a smile he had always reserved for only me.

He made no attempt to move and I wouldn't have been able to move if I had wanted to. I simply stood there taking every inch of him in:

There was no denying he was older. And his hair was shorter and slightly lighter than it once had been. The freckles on his face seemed more apparent, as if he'd spent an extensive amount of time outside under the sun. His nose looked as if it had once been broken and had mended itself crooked. But his eyes were the same, still twinkling as if he was in on some fabulous secret. Which, I suppose this time, he had been.

I finally found my voice and managed to whisper, "Fred..."

I was in his arms mere seconds later, he was holding me tighter than I'd ever been held before. I buried my head into the muggle coat he was wearing, melted snowflakes mixing with my own salty tears. He kissed the top of my head and I looked up to meet his gaze.

Tears were glittering in tracks down his cheeks as he whispered, "I've found you... and I'm never letting you go again."

"But... Where? How...?" I stammered.

He quietly shushed me, pressing his index finger to my lips and then let his hand trace its way down my neck.

He murmured, "I'll tell you everything soon. I just need to do one thing first."

Searching his eyes, wondering what he could possibly have to do, I quietly questioned, "What?"

He answered me by bringing his lips down to meet mine, his tongue coaxing my mouth open to deepen the first kiss we'd had in such a long time.

After a moment or so he pulled away and kissed my forehead, whispering, "I promised you forever and always, Hermione. And forever and always is exactly what you're going to get."

**THE END!**

* * *

**A/N**: Oh, fabulous readers, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this was the last chapter earlier. You would've known something like this was going to happen then! Though I do feel this is a rather abrupt ending.-- Is it true? Did I really write this fluff? I surprise myself once in awhile. :) 

Oh my... I am so happy. I don't suppose anyone was surprised it was Fred, hm? It could've been Ron. Stop laughing, it really could've. ...Okay, so it couldn't have been Ron. We like Fred better anyway. ;)

So, the only question I've left is: Should I write an epilogue? I think there could be room for one... Give me your opinions!

To my reviewers who were with me the (almost the) whole time (well, for the important parts, anyway ;)):

Astrianna Glaze: Your reviews always made me smile, and I want to thank you again for taking the time to drop me a line on over half of my chapters, it just meant so SO much:)

screwtheperfectlife: Oh? What's this? Now you get to know who Sir Amnesiac is! Your hope was not misplaced after all! Thank you so much for reviewing on a good chunk of my chapters! It's good to get feedback from the readers and I just appreciate it so much!


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